Love of a Spartan
by AshleyBudrick
Summary: She's just a marine. He's a Spartan. Love has no place in a war, but it forms whether you like it or not, whether it makes you or breaks you. And in this case, it could be lethal. John-117 x OC. Updated & Edited 07/11
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

I can't love

There's no place for it, out here, in the danger zone,

We're stuck in this war, with only faint memories of back home,

Our flowers and chocolate are guns and bullets,

Only when this is over can we relax, maybe

Until then, I won't stop till I finish,

Put an end to it all

Finish this fight

**[May 14****th****, 2525 ****–**** Los Angeles, California, USA - Earth]**

The little girl emerged from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes with one fist tiredly, clutching a stuffed kitten by the paw. The toy's fur was matted and stained, but it was a good sign that it was a well adored object.

The girl, whose name was Renee Kilburn, looked similar to her stuffed kitten in terms of condition. Being an eight year old, her brown hair was messily brushed into two pig-tails, remnants of her breakfast was clustered in the corners of her mouth, and her clothes, particularly her elbows and knees, were stained brown and green from her latest romp outside in the yard.

Her father was at work and her mother was currently in the shower, and she had just awoken from her nap. She had played for quite a long time outside with her two friends, Troy Fisher and Amy Smythe. It was the weekend, so the three friends often took advantage of the freedom from school to play games like grav-ball, riding their bikes, going to the park or looking for lizards and bugs in the garden. This particular excursion had tuckered her out and she went in and surrendered to a rest for a while, and managed to nap despite the temperature both inside and outside of the house. The Californian sun, despite it being early spring, shone down hotly, a menacing foreshadow for what was to come during the summer months, and Renee had napped lightly, lying atop of her bed sheets, the curtain pulled down over her bedroom window in attempt to make the atmosphere a little cooler.

As she stepped into the sunlit living room, she was able to groggily make out the digital clock on the mantel, it read 3: 21pm. Troy and Amy would probably be back again soon, like most other days, rejuvenated and knocking at her door to invite her to go play again.

Troy, a lanky and adventurous brown-haired boy, was older than Renee or Amy. Being the age of eleven, he wasn't as easily tuckered out and was usually the first one to come knocking, usually with a soda or perhaps an energy drink in hand, willing to usually share it with Renee.

Amy was nine, with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles. She fit in well with the two, and had been obnoxious, energetic, and tom-boyish since a very young age. Seeming always determined to prove herself, she was always trying to keep up with Troy and his other friends. She never liked to admit she was tired, and kept going until usually she couldn't walk anymore.

Renee, however, wasn't afraid to surrender into slumber when she needed it, and if it weren't for Troy and Amy soon to pay her a visit again, she would have liked to slept some more. However, she felt herself awakening further with each step. She walked over to the couch, and sat down. Her mother hadn't shut off the TV like she usually had the habit of doing, and the news was blaring. Renee settled onto the couch, clutching her stuffed kitten in her arms, and looked curiously at the TV.

A news reporter was anxiously reporting the latest information on the Human-Covenant war. To an eight year old, the news wasn't important, and most children were able to live happily without the war being a current factor on their mind. In fact, Renee's parents did their best to keep their daughter sheltered from it. It had been raging since February now, and it wasn't likely that anything would die down anytime soon. The United Nations Space Command was up against a new and extremely powerful foe, with advanced technology and weaponry. Earth, at this time, was a safe haven. The goings-on of the war were light-years away on the distant outer colonies, but it wasn't to be forgotten that the outer colonies were populated with families just like Earth.

"_Today, a Covenant cruiser has entered __another UNSC colony planet__'__s atmosphere and launched an attack; this planet__'__s population is about 4 million, and our forces are currently trying to save the planet before the Covenant get a chance to glass it__… we have exclusive footage__ taken from one Marine__'__s helmet__…"_

Renee was able to understand most of the words; she was smart for her age, and it frightened her. She knew that there was a war going on, but hadn't been allowed to hear much about it. All she had been told is that it was far, far away and she had nothing to worry about. She wanted to look away from the TV, but her childish curiosity kept her watching as the news cut to shaky and static video footage, filled with gunfire and movement. Bright blue and green bolts of what looked to be light streaked across the screen; dirt could be seen catapulting into the air by explosions, the occasional rat-a-tat-tat of assault rifles was heard. Suddenly, a blue armor-clad alien came into view, and Renee gasped, staring wide-eyed in horror as it roared, and charged towards the camera, shooting its weapon.

It looked like something from a movie, but this thing was real. She never saw an alien before, only heard about them, and what she heard was kept at a minimum. Most parents didn't want their children to be exposed to the horrifying truth of what the human race was fighting, including Renee's. If her mother wasn't in the shower, she probably wouldn't have let her even watch the television.

The charging alien in the footage was tall, big, and ugly. It walked on two feet, just like humans did, had four jaws lined with sharp teeth and an elongated reptilian face and little golden eyes with slits for pupils. Just as the monster drew close to the camera, it let out a deep, terrifying roar that seemed to echo, there was a bright blue flash and a loud sizzling noise and the image flickered and diminished to a noisy buzz war of salt and pepper.

It switched back to the news reporter, who looked just as surprised at the video's ending as Renee. He cleared his throat and glanced down to his papers, and began talking again, but his words went in one ear and out the other. Renee sat on the couch, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in shock. It was difficult to register that what she had just witnessed was not a movie, not fiction, but reality. _This _was what humanity was up against.

She barely heard the knocking on the door, but she didn't need to get up and answer it, for not two seconds later she heard the door open. For a moment in her eight year old mind, the option that it might be an alien crossed her thoughts. She imagined one identical to what had been in the video stepping into her living room, looking at her with those evil eyes, its jaws parting to let loose that same terrifying roar. She gasped and stared at the entrance of the living room as she heard footsteps approaching down the hallway, her mind betraying her and running wild.

But it was no alien. She was quite relieved to see Troy walk in, hands shoved in his pockets. His shaggy hair a mess underneath his hat, and his blue eyes shone through the dirt on his face. He had acquired a new injury, Renee noted, by the new band-aid slapped on his arm.

"Hey," he said, his calm expression somewhat soothing, "Me and the guys are heading to the park for a game of gravball. Wanna come?"

Renee nodded, although she still felt scared.

"Sure," she replied in a small voice, sliding off the couch and setting her stuffed kitten on the floor, "Amy coming?"

"I'm goin' to her house next to ask," Troy answered, and raised his eyebrow, noticing how timidly she crossed the room, "Are you ok?"

"Mhm," Renee nodded, glancing back at the TV.

"Oh, watching the news?" Troy put an arm around her shoulder, "Don't let it scare you, kid. I'm not scared of those aliens. You know, Dad says that I should go and fight them some day, you know, to help out our planet. We all could someday, when we get older. You, Amy and I," Troy lifted his arms to aim with an invisible gun, "Wouldn't that be cool?"

Troy closed one eye and made a shooting sound effect. He smiled a lopsided grin, and lowered his arms. He glanced over at Renee, waiting for her response.

"No it wouldn't." Renee replied flatly. She couldn't imagine seeing those aliens in real life, fighting them, being in danger of being killed, "Let's go get Amy."

Troy shrugged and they both walked out into the hallway, approaching the front door, which Troy had left casually open.

"Y'never know what the future's got in store for us, RenRen," he simply said.

Renee took one last look over her shoulder at the TV before pushing it out of her mind and running outside, Troy quick to follow.


	2. Capricornia

**Chapter One**

**Ten Years Later**

**[March 7th, 2535, City of Vega**** – Planet Capricornia****, UNSC Colony, 1300 Hours]**

An M-12 Warthog sped across a dirt clearing, kicking up red dust as it headed towards a cluster of concrete buildings that had once been considered the outskirts of the city of Vega. Besides the roar of the vehicle's engine and the crunching of the wheels against the ground, the air was filled with sounds of distant gunfire and the buzz of overhead Banshees and Covenant drop ships.

The area was a war zone. Vega, which was once a flourishing city of over two million, was now almost completely abandoned, for the exception of several squads of UNSC marines and a few terrified civilian stragglers desperately searching for a way out of the hell. The latter weren't likely to last long; a few managed to find the marines and were promised a seat in the hatch of a Pelican when the evacuation time came – but others were left to wander the scorched and crumbling streets of what had once been their home, searching for help that they wouldn't find. Those unfortunates, like millions of others would meet their death, directly or indirectly, at the hands of the Covenant.

They had found the colony of Capricornia three days ago, not long after destroying the colony of Jericho IV – it hadn't even been a week before. The Covenant fleet had been led right to Capricornia by a slip-up, a set of coordinates falling into alien hands – and now, here they were, approaching their seventy-second hour of wreaking hell.

The invasion was huge. From the ground, at least two Covenant assault carriers were visible. They crept through the air almost lazily, making a sweep of the north end of the city. Almost constantly, blue beams of plasma flashed down from them, enveloping the city in a bright orange flame, scorching the ground and buildings as easily as tossing a match in gasoline. The sky was thick with smoke; the majority of light not coming from the sun, but the flaming horizon. Everything had a hazy orange hue; it indeed looked like hell itself.

They had already begun glassing.

Junior Lieutenant Troy Fisher was driving the Warthog, his skills almost reckless. Pedal to the metal and the hand of the speedometer buried, the vehicle was almost flying, making air occasionally as it sped across the uneven ground, bouncing heavily on the shocks. The Lieutenant's gloved hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, jerking it this way and that to avoid large rocks and pits in the ground. His face was covered in dirt and sweat; his standard-issue battle gear feeling like it was smothering him – he could feel sweat running down the back of his neck and the heaviness of his soaked hair beneath his helmet. Every once and a while he'd remove one hand from the wheel to hastily wipe trickles of sweat that were cascading down his forehead and into his eyes, not willing to take his focus from the "road" ahead. His expression one of concentration and disgust, eyebrows were furrowed. He would glance briefly to the rearview mirror, at the Covenant carriers, and their smaller counterparts, CCS battle cruisers, glassing part of the city behind them. Anywhere you looked, the horizon was glowing with distant fire – fire that would soon envelop the entire planet.

They were fighting a losing battle, Troy knew that much, which added to his frustration, knowing that death was all around them and the options for the marines were limited and kept getting cut down. Static bits and pieces he heard from the COM channels over his headset contained nothing positive. Over the sounds of gunfire, hastily shouted orders and heavy breathing, Troy must have heard the words "retreat", "evacuation", and "hell" hundreds of times. The only hopes of saving Capricornia now were if UNSC forces could raid off the Covenant from the air. However, the chances of that happening were slim. Lately, the UNSC was being outnumbered in ship-to-ship battle three to one. It wasn't pretty.

Troy tore his eyes away from the rearview mirror, back to the road, then briefly to his side, where his childhood friend Renee Kilburn sat beside him. She, along with Amy, despite his wishes, had joined the UNSC two years after he had. The two women, with less than a year of actual field experience under their belts were fresh to these hellish warzones, and more than once he was able to catch the expression of bewilderment and horror on their still-childish faces. He never wanted them to join, he never wanted for them to see this, to experience this, to be close to death. This hell, this war, the bloodshed, the death, completed with the gap between ranks and enforced authority made their long-term friendship a far away fantasy now. Long ago were the lazy civilian days in Los Angeles. This was now, and this was pure hell.

Renee, strapped into the passenger's seat of the Warthog and assault rifle in hand, was trying to mask the overwhelming adrenaline and fear that was plaguing her, but she knew she wore it on her face; it was as plain to see as the dirt and sweat. Just months ago she had found herself stationed on the Malta Space Station, orbiting Earth. She and Amy Smythe had graduated from the Academy at the same time and spent their first six months of service on the Malta, a part of Earth's Defense Force – but the demand for marines grew as the Covenant attacks on UNSC Colonies grew more and more severe, and they were sent together, to the conflicts going on light-years away on distant colonies – the front lines – just like Capricornia. It was hard to believe just two years ago, Renee had been in her final year of high school and the idea of joining the UNSC to fight hadn't been on her mind – but now, here she was, in the midst of a living hell, where the sun was blinded by smoke, the horizons shone with fire and the air filled with alien ships concentrating on one thing and one thing only – annihilation.

Letting out a shaky sigh, which wasn't heard over the growling engines of the Warthog, Renee made sure her chin-strap of her helmet was tight and glanced back over her shoulder to Amy, who was manning the M41, a chain-machine gun with armor piercing round on a swivel turret – a powerful match against anything Covenant on the ground. Amy, with her tall stature and bulky battle armor, didn't appear one bit out of place on the turret; however her familiar freckled face changed none, even with dirt and sweat, reminding Renee of their friendship before all of this.

Amy let loose a creative array of profanities, some words inaudible, and it didn't take long for Renee to notice what her friend had. Two Covenant Ghosts darted from a side street behind them, entering the clearing. They broke off and sped forward, intent on attacking. The M41 sputtered to life as Amy aimed it at them.

"Two Ghosts, coming up pronto at five and seven o'clock!" Renee bellowed over the gunfire and the engine.

Hearing this, Troy caught a glimpse of them in his rearview mirror, zigzagging to avoid Amy's fire. Manning the Ghosts, were two Covenant Elites, both donning blue armor. Good, Troy thought, he'd be able to sprinkle off some of his anger on these two unfortunate bastards.

"Hang on," he announced, and pulled his favorite trick, jammed on the breaks and twisted the wheel. The Warthog screeched and flipped around in a split-second U-turn, one of the vehicles' known abilities. At first, Amy must've thought he was doing this to give he an easier shot, but when the LT drove his foot into the gas pedal once more, heading straight for one of the Ghosts, she shouted:

"What the hell are you doing?"

Troy didn't respond; he _knew _what he was doing. The Elite driving the Ghost, clearly thrown off by this move, fired at them. A deadly array of searing bright blue bolts of plasma went sizzling over their heads and glancing off the windshield. Troy and Renee, even though protected by the windshield, could feel the incredible heat from the plasma. If just one of those bolts even _grazed _one of them, it was a possible goodbye to a limb, or even a life.

As the space between the Ghost and the Warthog diminished, Troy couldn't help but chuckle at the Elite; it thought he was going to stop. Showing the alien wrong, Troy slammed the Warthog straight into the Covenant Ghost. There was a loud screech of metal hitting metal and with a bone-jarring impact they were all thrown forward and then yanked back into their seats by their seatbelts. Renee momentarily felt her heart stop, along with the Warthog, and glanced down at the seatbelt tight about her waist, and was thankful for it. Through the dusty and now-cracked windshield, she could see that their Warthog was now half on top of the Ghost, pinning the hovering vehicle tight to the ground. The frustrating groans and whirs of the Ghost's engine was heard, followed by an irritated roar that came from the Covenant Elite sitting in the driver's seat. Its four jaws parted to bear rows of sharp teeth as it shouted something in its guttural language as it tried to put the Ghost into reverse, but the weight of the Warthog kept it tight to the ground.

"Givin' us a generous look at the bastards up close, eh Troy?" Amy remarked, and before Troy or Renee could turn over their shoulders to look at her, the machine gun growled to life. The Ghost was just in range. In seconds its rotating barrels spat a copious amount of armor-piercing rounds in the Elite's direction. The Ghost's hull sparked as it was peppered with bullets, and the Elite's body armor proved no match against the reign of fire. It was quickly killed, letting out a mournful wail as it was finished with a bullet to the head. Spurts of thick purple blood splattered the area around it as the Elite's limp body fell from the Ghost onto the dirt with a dull thud.

Renee stared at the dead alien, momentarily perplexed. It grew silent as Amy stopped the machine gun fire – but this silence wasn't to last. It was seconds before they heard a far off whir of a Covenant engine, and seconds later, the unmistakable sound of firing plasma weapons. Several bolts of plasma soared precariously close to the Warthog. Amy had to duck, letting out a surprised gasp as a bolt whizzed over her helmet, popping and sizzling the air around her.

"Sweet Jesus Christ!" She shouted, spinning the turret around behind her, seeing it was the other Ghost.

Troy cursed, jerking the gearshift into reverse. The Warthog sped back off the Ghost and he turned it to face the oncoming one. The Elite driving wasn't a happy camper. It was shooting mercilessly in their direction, splashing the windshield and hood of the Warthog with burning plasma, popping and sizzling, vaporizing the paint. As the two vehicles veered towards each other, the Warthog gained speed, Troy attempting to try his trick once more. However this Elite wasn't about to be as stupid as his comrade had been, having witnessing his death from afar. The Elite zigzagged the Ghost at the last second, darting around the Warthog, shooting continuously.

Troy muttered an array of curses, watching as the Ghost zipped out of his peripheral vision and behind the Hog. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the plasma bolts from the Ghost starting to melt the titanium armor of the Warthog, and shouted in frustration, "Get at him, Amy, for Christ's sake!"

"He's too close!" Amy shouted, spinning the turret to follow the Ghost as it whirled around them almost playfully. For a moment she thought she could hear the Elite chuckle, a mocking, humanoid response. She attempted to fire the M41, but the bullets went clean over the Elite's head, "It won't aim that low, he's too close to us!"

Trying to get the Elite off their ass, Troy began to play an irritating game of cat and mouse, the two vehicles circling and looping around the clearing in a deadly dance. Amy tried to get in shots where she could, but this Elite was smart, keeping the Ghost close. Troy knew, with each plasma bolt that struck the side of the Warthog, it weakened the vehicle's armor. In a desperate attempt, pulled an emergency U-turn, jamming on the breaks and jerking the wheel to the side, causing the Warthog lurching sickeningly to the side. He waited for the Warthog to level, but his heart jumped into his throat as he felt the Warthog tip further. As Hogs were known to do, the damn thing was going to flip.

"Jump out!" He shouted to Amy and Renee, and he tried to get out of the driver's seat. His hand fumbled for his seatbelt, but gravity was against him. Unable to get it undone in time, he tumbled with the Warthog, hearing Amy and Renee's screams as the Warthog crashed onto its side, stirring up clouds of dust. It went further, rolling upside down, and Troy saw the world spin and heard crunching metal and crashing and firing plasma.

Then everything went black.

The Warthog was flipping, and Renee's hand went instantly to her seatbelt. Getting it undone in a flash, she grabbed her assault rifle jumped. She landed face first in the dirt, driving her assault rifle into her ribs, a searing pain ebbing through her chest. She felt the air leaving her lungs with one sickening rush. As she struggled to gulp a mouthful of oxygen, she heard a loud crash, and looked back over her shoulder, and saw the Warthog laying upside down not two feet away, the wheels still spinning. There was no sign of Amy or Troy. Taking a few frantic gasps and ignoring the pain in her chest, she quickly pulled herself to her feet, grabbing up her assault rifle. She raised her weapon, taking a few unsteady steps, breathing heavily. Fear shot through her as she the Ghost buzzing around on the other side of the overturned Hog.

Suddenly the air was filled with sharp, ear-splitting cracks of gunshots, and she heard Amy yelling. Renee sprinted around to the other side of the Warthog, and saw Amy with her M6D pistol, trying her best to make accurate shots at the Ghost, as the Elite played with her, darting the Ghost back and forth.

"Amy!" Renee shouted, overtaken by adrenaline, "Cover me, I'm going in!"

Amy turned to look at her in surprise, but Renee had already run past, running blind. She wasn't even sure what she was doing, running straight towards the Ghost. She locked eyes with the Elite in the driver's seat. It was watching her approach with amusement. Letting out a throaty chuckle, it was about to shoot, when suddenly bullets whizzed by its head and pinged off the side of the Ghost. It turned, distracted by Amy, and Renee had her move.

Letting out a barbaric yell, she jumped up and landed on the purple hood of the Ghost, nearly slipping off the smooth surface, but she grabbed onto the control panel with one hand to keep from sliding back. The Elite turned to look, and Renee saw the surprise in its reptilian eyes at the pathetic little human hanging off its vehicle.

Renee's grip wasn't holding fast, so she threw her assault rifle to the ground and used both hands to hold on. Her mind was running a thousand questions, a thousand thoughts. _Now what? _This seemed to be the most frequent one; _Now what are you going to do?_

This Elite was a clever bastard. She saw its mandibles form some kind of alien sneer and the Ghost accelerated. She heard Amy screaming at her, but couldn't make out the words; she stared into the Elite's black, glittering eyes. She'd never imagined to be this close to a Covenant Elite. In a split-second, she got a flashback of the time she saw that footage on the news back when she was a little girl.

These Elites were much uglier in person. She could see the grayish blue of its leathery skin, beneath its shining blue armor and its yellowed sharp teeth in each of its four mandibles. It almost looked like it was grinning at her.

She was so preoccupied with looking at the alien, that she wasn't hearing _what_ it was Amy was screaming. Renee tore her eyes away from the Elite, and her friend's screams cut into her ears.

"RENEE! THE WALL! THE WALL!"

Renee whipped her head back to look over her shoulder, and saw the hard stone wall approaching fast, and then she looked down at the lower half of her body dangling down the front of the Ghost.

She whipped back around to look at the Elite. No wonder it had been "grinning" at her. It was going to crush her! Renee was horrified when she saw the Elite throw its head back and laugh, a deep, menacing laugh.

Quickly, Renee went through her options. If she jumped off now, it wouldn't solve the problem of this Elite. Humans on the ground didn't stand a very good match against Ghosts. And if she didn't jump, her body would be crushed and she would be killed.

The Elite was still laughing, and Renee took this as an opportunity. Letting out a strangled cry, she used every muscle in her body and pulled herself forward, just as the Ghost crashed into the wall. The impact helped her, and she surprisingly went flying onto the Elite's _lap._

The Elite hadn't been expecting this, and in seconds, Renee had her M6D pistol from her utility belt. Just as the alien began to roar a guttural curse of surprise, and raise its fist to bring down on her, she squeezed the trigger, placing four bullets into its open maw. Its head jerked with the shots as the skull exploded out backwards, splattering warm purple blood and brain matter onto Renee's face and armor.

In shock, her mouth hanging open and still holding her pistol, Renee couldn't move, even as the Ghost's engines sighed and the machine settled to the ground. She stared at the remains of the Elite, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She heard running footsteps approaching her, and knew, without looking, it was Amy.

"Holy shit!" was Amy's first exclamation, and for the first time, Renee tore her eyes away from the Elite to her friend's bewildered face, knowing her own was covered with the gore from the Elite.

"Amy," Renee said, her voice failing her and coming out quieter than she intended. She forced her legs to move and she climbed off the dead Elite's body. She felt a surge of relief as her feet touched the ground, but took a couple of steps before dropping to her knees. All she could smell was the strange odor of Elite blood, and the air seemed thick, hot and heavy. It only took her a couple of suppressed dry heaves until she was overcome and vomited into the dirt.

"RenRen, you okay?" Renee felt Amy's hand supportively on her back. In those few weak seconds after vomiting, waiting to see if there was more to come, Renee managed a nod. She felt her stomach settle, and knew there would be no more. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she nodded again for her own assurance.

"Yeah," she finally croaked out, trying to clear her mind, "I am," a thoughtful pause, "Where's Troy?"

Troy groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in the dirt, his legs up above him, somewhere by the steering wheel. So, his seatbelt must've come undone after all – too late, however. Dust filled his nose and his mouth, and his eyes watered. He could feel that he had lost his helmet sometime during the accident. Other than a sore back, he was fine, he could feel all his limbs, and if he tried, move them. The Warthog hadn't crushed him.

He looked to the passenger's side, which was now on his left, and didn't see Renee.

That's when he realized how strangely quiet it was. It was deathly quiet. There were no gunshots, no plasma, no buzz of the Ghost, no voices; nothing.

For a moment, he thought he was dead, but no, heaven wasn't the dusty, cramped confines of a flipped Warthog. He was alive, that was for certain. The only sound was his own breathing and his heart pounding in his ears. Where was Renee? Where was Amy? Where was that damned Ghost and the Elite driving it?

That's when he heard footsteps - running footsteps. They were distant at first, and he wasn't even sure that he was hearing them, but they grew closer. Two sets of footsteps, familiar too – combat boots on dirt, he knew the sound all too well.

"Lieutenant Fisher!"

Familiar voices, calling his name. Amy and Renee, they both sounded worried.

"Troy!"

He twisted his head to the driver's side, and saw someone's combat boots. Then they kneeled down, and he saw Renee's face looking at him. It was covered in dirt, and strange purple smears. Was that… alien blood on her face?

"Troy! Are you alright?" she cried, her eyes widening. All aspects of his rank were forgotten at this point. Right now, he was her childhood friend, not a superior officer. She raised her head, "Amy, help me get him out!" She looked back to him again, "Are you trapped?"

"No," Troy said, and he coughed, dust coming out of his mouth, "Just in a strange position. Help me out of here, Private."

He extended a gloved hand out to her. Two sets of hands grabbed his arm, and began pulling. Troy coughed again, but he was relieved when they finally managed to pulled him out onto the dirt. He took a deep breath of air, coughing. He looked up at the sky, orange in its hue, and saw a Banshee streak across the strangely purple clouds, bringing him back to reality. It wasn't over yet.

Suddenly Renee and Amy blocked his view of the sky as they both leaned over him.

"Are you alright? Think you can stand?" Amy asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Troy nodded, muffling a cough again, "Help me up."

They each grabbed one of his arms and helped him to his feet. Wiping some dirt from his battle gear, he glanced in disgust at the overturned Warthog, and then began to survey the scene. He saw the one Ghost he had almost run over, motionless on the ground, and the dead Elite lying in the dirt beside it.

"Where's the other…" he began, but then he saw the Ghost by the wall. The front of it was crushed and faint smoke was billowing from it. The engine sparked beneath the purple hood. He saw a limp body of the Elite still in the driver's seat, its head dangling limply, not much left of it. The purplish-blue blood seemed to be splattered everywhere. He didn't bother finishing his sentence, making the connection with the blood on Renee's face and the second dead Elite. He raised an eyebrow and pointed at her.

"You?"

Renee nodded wordlessly.

"You should have seen her, LT!" Amy exclaimed, filling him in when Renee wasn't about to oblige, "Got this crazy idea into her head, she did. She ran at the Ghost, screaming like a madwoman, jumped on the hood of the Ghost. The Elite was just about to crush her against the wall - when she literally jumped onto its lap and shot it in the head. I couldn't believe my eyes!"

"Yeah, what really happened?" Troy didn't seem convinced, "Get a lucky shot or something?" Renee looked at him, but didn't answer, not willing to try and prove what she had done, so he continued, letting out a chuckle before hand, "Or, you voluntarily jumped onto the lap of a Covenant Elite, and it just happened let you shoot it in the head. Alright, Private Kilburn and Private Smythe, tell that story to the Captain! Might be medal worthy," his sarcasm was almost hurtful – but he brushed it aside, not even willing to let either of them protest as he gazed towards the Warthog, "Our transportation's ruined, there's no way we can flip this by ourselves," He sounded irritated, "We'll have to call in and get someone to pick us up or deliver us a new one."

"You flipped the damn thing," Amy muttered.

Troy turned to look at her, shooting down her confidence with a cold stare.

"The M12 Warthog is prone to flipping, always has been," he snapped, "Don't try and accuse _me _of being responsible for the current situation, _Private_! I don't want to hear another word from you or Kilburn. I'm in a bad enough mood as it is. Now I need to find my helmet…"

The short-tempered Lieutenant wandered off, circling the Warthog in a search for his helmet. Renee exchanged glances with Amy, but her friend just shrugged.

Out of the silence, a distant engine could be heard, nearing closer to them. It was coming from the opposite direction the Ghosts had come from, the direction Troy had originally been heading for.

"Shit," Troy said, hearing it. He managed to find his helmet and slap it back on his head, "What's up next? Where the hell is my Assault rifle…"

Suddenly a UNSC Warthog came whipping around the corner of a half-destroyed building, much to their relief. It sped into the clearing, kicking up dust, the driver almost as reckless as Troy, but not quite.

Troy, not having noticed, was down on his knees looking underneath the Warthog for his assault rifle, when Amy nudged him in the leg with her boot.

"What?" Troy growled viciously, but he stood up and saw the Warthog approaching them. He cocked an eyebrow, "What the hell! I thought we had the only Warthog in this area. There's no gunner, or passenger…"

He walked around to the front of the flipped Warthog, towards the approaching one, taking his pistol from his belt. Amy and Renee followed cautiously. Troy walked right into the path of the oncoming Warthog. It slowed, and came to a break-screeching stop three feet from the three marines.

The person that got out of the warthog wasn't a marine. When they all saw him, they took an uncontrollable step back. It was a man, or so it appeared, but he was wearing green titanium armor which increased his bulk and his helmet had an orange mirrored visor. When he rose to full height when he exited the vehicle, he was easily seven feet tall.

"What the…" Troy breathed, and Renee and Amy echoed the same words. At the same time, they realized who this person was. It was one of the UNSC Spartans. The super-soldiers they'd all heard about but never seen.

Master Chief John-117 slung his assault rifle against his shoulder as if it were a toy, making a clunk as it hit his armor. He took a couple of strides before stopping a couple feet from the three Marines, whose eyes were glued to him. They were all covered in dirt, sweat, and one girl was covered in Elite blood. Generally, they all looked like hell – but lately, what marine didn't.

He looked at each of them individually, watching as they looked unsurely into his mirrored visor, eyes searching for a face, but getting nothing but their own reflections.

"Need some help?" John spoke, his voice deep, monotone.

"Yes, Spartan, matter of fact we do," Troy replied, shaking off his initial surprise of seeing a Spartan come to their rescue, "Our warthog flipped over, and as of now, we're stranded."

He watched as the Spartan nodded his head once, then turned to look at the overturned Hog.

As he turned, Troy, Amy and Renee noticed the rocket launcher magnetically held onto his back, casually wearing it if it were a backpack. Normally one marine had trouble holding the rocket launcher on their shoulder to fire it.

It was true, then. These Spartans were really strong.

John looked back to Troy, and then thrust his assault rifle to his chest.

"Hold this," He said simply; he calmly walked over to the Warthog, kneeled, and then unbelievably lifted the vehicle, and with a flick of his wrists, flipped it in the air. It landed upright in the dirt with a loud crash, the frame flexing on the shocks from impact.

"No way!" Amy cried in amazement, and Troy and Renee simply said nothing, their mouths hanging open in awe.

John stooped, and retrieved Troy's assault rifle he'd been looking for earlier, turned and walked back to them. He wasn't fazed by the looks on their faces – the open mouths, the wide eyes, the thoughts of him in their heads being borderline amazement yet frightened. He saw these expressions way too often.

Troy quickly handed him back the assault rifle, looking a little bit more intimidated than he had been previously, and accepted his weapon from the Spartan.

"Thanks," John replied, and with this, added a quick salute, "Lieutenant Fisher."

Troy nodded, almost looking stupid – too awed to return the salute. It registered in his brain somewhere though, that this Spartan was a lower rank than himself.

"Thank _you_," Renee spoke up when Troy didn't, "That… was unbelievable."

"Be more careful this time, Private Kilburn, Private Smythe," John said, and looked at Troy, "Warthogs aren't the best vehicles for U-turns, Lieutenant."

He reached out and placed a gloved hand on Troy's shoulder, kept it there for a moment, and then he turned and walked back to his Warthog, and started it back up. John looked up and saw the three marines still standing there, unmoving, all watching him. He grinned slightly behind his mirrored visor, jerking gearshift into drive, drove around them and sped off into the clearing.

Troy, Amy, and Renee turned to gawk at him as he drove away. Troy, however, was the first to look away with a snort, seeming to snap to.

"The Warthog's good to go. Come on," he scoffed. He headed over to get in to the driver's seat.

"We met one of the Spartans," Renee said to Amy, sounding impressed, "I have every faith they're going to end this war for us."

"From what I just saw, I have no doubts," Amy nodded approvingly, putting her pistol into her belt, "Did you see how he flipped that Warthog? That was almost as cool as what you pulled off with that Ghost."  
"Apparently it was just a 'lucky shot' to Lieutenant Fisher."

"Don't listen to him," Amy shook her head, "He's just been soured by the war. For his attitude with you, maybe the fact that you guys dated in high school has something to do with it."

"He was the one who broke it off," Renee answered grimly, "To join the UNSC. And the only reason why he's rude to me is because he didn't want me to enlist– and now that I have, well, his attitude speaks for itself."

"He's just afraid that you'll get yourself killed, a worry I also share! If you keep pulling shit off like you did today, it'll happen. As for Troy though, I know he still cares about you."

"Hah, right."  
"Come on!" Troy suddenly shouted at them, honking the horn impatiently, "This ain't social time, Privates! Move your asses or I'll leave you here with the dead bodies!"

They sighed and wordlessly walked over to the warthog. Amy jumped in the gunner's seat once more. Renee ran over, quickly retrieving her assault rifle from the ground, then jogged back to the passenger's side and jumped in.

"Takin' your bloody time," Troy snapped, "You like to keep me waiting, don't you, Private?"

"You used to call her RenRen," Amy remarked from the back.

"That was high school, Amy," Troy rolled his eyes; "I grew up."

"Amazing."

Troy sighed irritably, and started up the Warthog, and jammed the gearshift to drive, and the Warthog started up with a jerk he accelerated that fast, and they sped off towards the cluster of the abandoned buildings.

"Do you think there will be snipers around here?" Renee asked, looking up at the towering buildings as they feverishly sped past, "Jackals with beam rifles usually like these kind of spots."

Troy was driving like a maniac. He didn't even look at her, as they swerved around a corner.

"You honestly think they'll get a good shot at us?" Troy asked, glancing at the speedometer as it approached seventy mph.

"You never know," Renee replied.

"Well if anyone here gets sniped, it's not like we can do much about it," Troy shrugged indifferently, "Personally I think we're going to get called back to the _Hercules_. We can't win this fight. They're already glassing the shit out of this place."

"We can't just leave," Renee spoke up stubbornly, "That's what happened in the battle of Jericho… we just left the planet for the Covenant to burn."

"Well we're not doing much good down here, are we?" Troy snapped, "Those carriers are scorching this planet all to hell. Look how many there are just in this one city. Imagine what the rest of the planet looks like! It's not like we're doing too well up in space, either. The Covenant have us outnumbered three to one, or that's what it was a few days ago. Who knows, it might be five to one now."

"The Spartan… he…"

"He can't do anything about it either!" Troy snapped in frustration, "He's just a genetically enhanced soldier in green armor. If he and the other Spartans could actually prevent planets from being glassed, well we would have won the battle on Jericho IV, and all the other colonies they managed to destroy, wouldn't we? They've destroyed nearly all of the outer colonies, and this planet is next. Like it or not, we _can__'__t_ save Capricornia."

There was a sigh of relief from the three marines when they safely pulled into the temporary HQ, which was located on the outskirts of the city in what once had been a public park. It was nice to see other marines, instead of the previous four hours of seeing Covenant. The headquarters was bustling with personnel, as they darted in and out of make-shift tents, carrying supplies and ammo, and several were seated beneath a tree in a semi-circle eating their lunch packs.

Troy crept the Warthog through the crowd, until he reached where the others were parked. He cut the engine and got out, and Renee and Amy were quick to follow. Renee noticed that their Warthog looked the same as the others - littered with plasma burns and covered in dirt and alien blood.

Renee shook her head and watched as Troy went off on his own, to meet up with his comrades, Sergeant Josh Hamlin, and two Corporals, Kirkland Ronstadt and Blaine Kilmer. They too, like Amy and Renee, had been Troy's friends since childhood.

As she and Amy walked through the camp, they noticed that the Marines were taking the ammo and supplies, and loading them into the Pelicans. There was a certain amount of uneasiness in the dusty camp, an edginess of sorts, as if everyone was itching to leave. Amy didn't seem to notice this as Renee did. She realized that they were preparing to pack up and leave, to surrender yet another planet to the Covenant.

They walked over to a box of ration packs that was left open for the troops, and each took one. They retired to the shade of an oak tree, near Troy and his friends. Troy was livid, Renee could tell by his actions. He was tense, his arms were folded across his chest and he was leaning back against a tree, his shoulders squared. His eyebrows were furrowed that much that his forehead was wrinkled, and his eyes seemed to be dancing daggers. Josh, Kirk and Blaine stood around him casually, and they were talking lowly among themselves, respecting their Lieutenant's silence. He wasn't the only one frustrated with the situation.

"This is upsetting," Renee announced to Amy, as she tore open her ration pack with her teeth. The idea of food seemed good to her since she'd vomited up her breakfast and felt hungry, "We're leaving so soon. I feel so helpless."

"Don't. It's best not to think about it," Amy replied, taking out a package of vacuum-sealed pepperoni from her own ration pack, "It's just that we're outgunned and outnumbered, like Troy said. We may not be able to prevent them from glassing these colonies, but our job is to keep them bastards from finding Earth."

Everyone in the camp suddenly paused in what they were doing as they heard the familiar whir as a Covenant cruiser glided overhead. Everyone fell silent, daring not to move – watching, praying that the cruiser's excavation beam wouldn't begin to charge. If it did, they would all be incinerated in minutes – but the cruiser didn't see them. It soared past. There was a couple of moments of silence before everyone got back to what they were doing, letting out sighs of relief.

"Jesus we're lucky," Amy whispered to Renee, holding her hand to her heart, shaking her head.

They both sighed again with relief, then went back to eating in silence, watching as other marines carried the rocket packs, weapons, ammo and supplies to the waiting Pelicans. Amy finished her pack, crumpled it up and threw it to the ground.

"They're gonna glass this place anyway," she muttered, and then she dug in her pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. Amy didn't make a habit of smoking, but she resorted to it when she was stressed or upset.

She offered a cigarette to Renee, and she shrugged and took it. Amy lit up, and then lit Renee's. Amy took a big drag then exhaled, letting out a sigh.

"Cancerous shit," she raised an eyebrow, "We're all gonna die eventually… so why not, huh?"

Renee, on her first drag, took to a fit of coughing, clearly inexperienced. Amy just shook her head with a little smile.

There suddenly was a distant rumble of a Warthog engine, and everyone turned to look as a Warthog came tearing down the path towards the camp, flew up and over a large rock, then came to a skidding halt near the other Hogs.

It was the Spartan again.

This time, it wasn't just Amy, Renee and Troy who stopped and stared when he got out, but everyone. They all watched as the Spartan strode across the camp to the nearest Pelican, removed his rocket launcher from his back and set it amongst the others.

Troy, who was the highest rank in the camp, let out a sigh and walked out to greet the Spartan on his return. Everyone was curious, so they all crowded around to hear what they had to say. Renee and Amy pushed their way to the front of the crowd, and Troy took a sideways glance at them, and then looked up at the Spartan, who had turned to face him. The Spartan gave him a quick salute, but said nothing.

"What's your survey from the North, Spartan?" Troy asked him.

"Not good," John replied, "They nearly have the entire area of the city leveled. From there, they will be moving to other areas until Vega is entirely destroyed. That means we have to move, or leave Capricornia all together."

Everyone, including Troy was silent for a moment. Troy reached up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring blankly at nothing, his eyes narrowed.

"What are your thoughts?" Renee spoke up, and John turned to look at her, as did everyone else, "I mean, you've seen more battles than we have, sir."

"Private Kilburn, keep your…" Troy began, but John cut him off.

"Do you want my honest opinion? Or, evaluation, of this situation, Private?"

"Yes, sir," Renee answered, straightening. She went to salute but she wouldn't be able to without elbowing someone in the face.

"It's too late," John replied simply, "There's no stopping them now. The Covenant will stop at nothing until this entire planet is glassed. Sure, we can kill the Covenant on the ground, but what's in the air is the big problem. Those cruisers outgun us three to one easily. If we stay here, we'll just end up getting killed. I hate to say this but, the wisest option is to abandon Capricornia as soon as we can. We've done all we can here."

Renee looked at Troy, then at Amy, then back into the faceless visor of the Spartan.

"I see." She said quietly.

`That pretty much answered everyone's questions.


	3. Forced Abandonment

**Chapter Two**

**[March 7, 2535, City of Vega – Planet Capricornia, UNSC Colony – 1500 hrs]**

John looked around at the now-solemn faces of the marines surrounding him. Each of them carried a look of uncertainty as they looked into his visor, searching for his eyes in the golden mirror. All they could find was their own reflection.

He hated being the bearer of bad news, but it was the truth, and John believed in telling it. This was going to be another Jericho IV. Another planet lost to the Covenant, another few million people dead. He often wished he could do more, but by now, John had realized that in this type of situation, there wasn't much he _could_ do.

He had contemplated the options for a long time on the drive back to the camp. There was the option of staying a while longer; moving from place to place like vagabonds, while the cruisers glided along behind them, glassing the previous area they had just been in. Sure, they would be able to kill maybe a dozen more Covenant ground teams, but not without casualties. The smell of blood was already strong in the air as it wafted out from the makeshift hospitals filled with injured and dying marines and civilians they had picked up in their travels. The docs didn't need more to care for.

Vega was just _one_ city on this vast planet. One. It both sickened and angered John to think of what the rest of the planet looked like. He hated to give up like this, hand the planet over to the Covenant as if it were a present, but it would be pointless to continue when they would lose it in the end anyway.

The Covenant, although no one really wanted to admit it, were getting better. The ratio was more than enough proof. More and more colonies were being lost each and every month, not that John kept track of time. This whole war seemed like one big, never ending hell.

Slowly, after he had answered Private Kilburn's question, the marines dwindled and went to get prepared to leave. The hot-headed Lieutenant remained there for a little while, just standing and staring at the ground, no doubt mulling over his advice. The two others, Kilburn and Smythe, stood there waiting for him. They must be companions, he realized.

"Lieutenant, you might want to get moving," John said to him. Even though Troy Fisher was a higher rank than he was, John wasn't about to let him sulk. There was work to be done.

Troy glanced up to him for a moment, not seeming intimidated of him anymore. He simply raised his shoulders and let them fall again and let his head bob in what seemed to be a little nod. He simply turned on his heel and stalked off. He snapped his head around to the two girls,

"Don't just stand there marines! Move! That's an order."

He walked off further into the camp, barking more orders to the others, resuming his intimidating role a man of his rank was expected to hold.

John turned, and walked over to a warthog, reached in the back and pulled out a first aid kit nestled in between two boxes of ammo for the machine gun. He ignored the pain in his chest and calmly strode over to the shade of a tree, plunked himself down on a boulder, and began removing his chest plates, and other pieces of his upper MJOLNIR armor, until he was left wearing the black matte body suit. The plates themselves resembled what his skin itself looked like. Scratched and scarred, dirtied and covered in blood. He then reached up and removed his helmet. The rush of fresh air hitting his face felt good. John wasn't afraid of showing his face. A lot of marines had seen him before, and he only got the strange looks because of his paleness. Besides that, he looked as normal as anyone else.

John then slipped off part of the body suit to expose his chest. His pale skin was scarred with old wounds, it was like a pattern. They criss-crossed his skin, like a child's scribbles on paper, but he had long since accepted them.

The new wounds, however, were what got his attention. He had a three inch gash tracing along his lower rib cage, and a dried trickle of blood had run down the length of his stomach. He examined himself further, discovering many tender places on his chest, neck and arms, which given a few hours, would form into ugly black and purple bruises. They were already sore, but John was trained to ignore pain. In the conclusion of his examination, he had one cracked rib, the gash, and countless bruises.

Normally, these wounds would put a normal marine out of commission for a few days, but John didn't have time to rest, nor did he need it. His wounds would heal soon enough. As he opened the first aid kit to begin treating the gash, he reminisced in hopes of trying to remember where the wounds would have come from.

The gash was from the energy sword, when a Spec Ops Elite had jumped out at him from on top of the awning of a building, he remembered. He wasn't about to try and figure out where all the bruises came from. It could have been from anywhere.

John filled the gash with biofoam, and placed a bandage over it, then pulled up his body suit back over his chest, and began reattaching the armor pieces. He was just finishing placing on his helmet when his HUD flashed.

He whipped his head around, his arm snapping out instinctively and grabbing his assault rifle, and he leapt to his feet. John saw the ugly face of a Jackal peeking out at him for a split second, until it ducked back into the brush.

John shot forward, reaching the alien's position in four long strides. The surprised Jackal turned to face him, its big eyes getting impossibly larger. It whipped its spindly arm around to point the beam rifle, but John wasn't in the mood for creeping Jackals.

Sniper Jackals didn't have shields, so this thing wasn't a threat. John reached down, his reflexes much faster than a trigger finger of a measly Jackal, and snatched the alien up by its bony, birdlike throat. He applied little pressure, and the thing let out a squawk, and dropped the beam rifle.

John looked into the creature's big, frightened eyes. He realized, the Jackal had must have been there when he had been not wearing his helmet. Why hadn't it shot him then? It would have been an easy kill. Either this alien liked a challenge, or it had some sort of modesty within it somewhere…

But he wasn't about to ponder. He finished the Jackal off with a flick of his wrist and a little squeeze. A loud snapping of bone echoed through the air, and he dropped the limp body of the Jackal to the ground. It made a low gurgling noise, purple blood bubbling from its bird-like mouth. It twitched once, twice, and then grew still.

He nudged it once with his foot, and then put a couple of short bursts into its head with the assault rifle, just to be sure. He had seen the Covenant put on dying spells before.

John was staring down at the body of the creature, when suddenly the Lieutenant and a handful of marines came tearing through the bushes behind him, assault rifles in hand, looking panicked. Troy nearly ran into the back of him, and quickly halted to a stop. He peered around John.

"What the…" Troy began, but he looked down at the dead Jackal and understood.

"Situation has been contained, Lieutenant," John said simply, stooped, picked up the dead Jackal's body, and turned on his heel. He brushed his way past the marines, and was the first to emerge from the bushes. The rest of the marines in the camp all stood on guard, and looked to him for an explanation.

John tossed the alien body to the dirt with a low thump.

"Sniper Jackal," John announced, "They're closing in on our position. Let's move double time. We should be long gone by 1700 hours."

Amy and Renee were loading some cargo into a Pelican, but they paused momentarily, arms full of supplies, to look at the Spartan and the dead Jackal he had brought back, like a cat would a mouse.

"Damn snipers," Amy scoffed lowly, shifting her weight onto her other foot, "Sneaky little bastards. At least we know we don't have to worry as much with the Spartan around."

"Yeah," Renee replied, taking one last look at the mangled body of the little alien before following Amy to the Pelican.

Everyone went back to their business, and within the next twenty minutes, with help of Troy angrily barking out orders, the camp was pretty much disassembled, and all the marines formed up to receive final orders.

John strode up beside Troy, whose face was red from all the yelling - the Jackal that close to the camp must have really set him off. For a Junior Lieutenant, Troy seemed to not have very much self-control at times, when in fact he should be setting an example.

It was common to run into the occasional officer or LT that had a temper, John realized that, and he couldn't really blame them. This war was pissing everyone off.

"Alright marines!" Troy barked, and they all snapped to straight attention. Not in perfect sequence, John noted, but good none the less. It's not like drill would help them much during a Covenant raid, anyhow.

"It seems the Spartan's decision for us to abandon Capricornia is also that of the Top Brass. In fact, I recently received a message for all UNSC personnel present in the defensive mission of Vega and the associating cities, to pull out immediately. Now, don't you think that we're out of this yet, marines," Troy narrowed his eyes, "Up in the sky is where we are really losing this goddamned war, and that's where we all have to go to get off this planet. Those Covenant bastards just love to make a game of shooting Pelicans out of the air, so a word to all pilots, be extra cautious. I want no casualties. Now, you all know the rules, about thirty personnel to the Pelicans with troop pods, ten to fifteen with those without, and don't complain if you have to sit on a box of ammo for the ride, am I understood marines?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The marines all replied, their voices in unison better than their drill.

"Dismissed," Troy replied, "Move it double time, go, go, go!"

The marines cleared out, splitting up into groups, filing into the Pelicans, the pilots first. "I don't feel right doing this," Troy said under his breath, more to himself than John, "It's a whole planet… we're losing another planet to those…"

John looked down at him, and saw Troy's face was carrying a pained expression. He couldn't seem to find the right words to say, so he just clapped Troy on the shoulder for a moment, and then strode forward to the nearest Pelican. He jumped in, not bothering to take a seat.

Then the Pelicans took off, one by one, rising slowly into the air, until they reached the right height and sped off up towards the sky. John's was the second Pelican to leave, and he stood on edge, watching as the ground quickly sped away, and as all the other Pelicans followed suit.

They were about five minutes into the air when the trouble started. John was the first to spot a Banshee. It whizzed past the back door of the Pelican, nearly hitting the attached Warthog. John narrowed his eyes beneath his visor, as his HUD lit up with a big red flashing dot.

It wasn't the Banshee making that, John realized, it must be…

Several gleaming hot reddish-purple beams suddenly soared through the air, some striking the side of the Pelican. John and all the marines were jerked about, and John muttered a curse, as he saw what was advancing on them.

A Covenant drop ship.

The Spirit was approaching them from thee, and coming in fast, and fired again. The plasma struck the Pelican, melting the steel, and filling the compartment with a searing heat. All the marines were suddenly panicking.

"I've lost the engines!" the pilot cried, "They won't respond, I repeat, they won't respond…"

That's when John saw the cockpit be enveloped in a giant ball of fire and plasma, the searing heat affecting him right through his armor. The fire ball sped towards him, and he heard the screams of the marines as they were engulfed in it.

John jumped.

He flew through the air, and there was a loud explosion behind him, as the Pelican burst into flames and spiraled towards the ground. John adjusted every bit of his weight for impact, as he aimed himself towards the Pelican that had been following his own.

He crashed onto the top of it, probably scaring the hell out of the marines within it. Along with him, John realized that pieces of scorched metal and flesh from the destroyed Pelican landed as well.

John felt his stomach flip, and he flattened himself to the Pelican, and began inching his way back. He reached the end, and let himself drop, caught himself so his body was dangling from the end of the Pelican. He saw all the marines within it, all turn to look at him in surprise.

He spotted Lieutenant Fisher, as well as his two companions, Kilburn and Smythe.

Using all the strength he had, John threw himself into the passenger's compartment with one easy movement. He landed gracefully onto the deck, and for a moment, didn't move. The pilot of the Pelican turned around briefly.

"Welcome aboard, sir," he said, sounding grim. The pilot would have gotten a front-row seat to the devastation of John's Pelican.

John felt all eyes on him as he rose to full height.

"The… bastards," Troy snapped, seeming shaken, "They…"

"They're coming back!" Amy shouted, nervousness overwhelming her voice, "At us!"

John whipped around, and true enough the Private was right. The damned drop ship was coming up on them.

John whipped around, and hastily tore open one of the cargo boxes. He rummaged for a moment, until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the rocket launcher, and he knew by the weight of it, it was loaded with two rockets.

"You can't fire that in here, are you crazy!" Troy shouted.

"I'm not," John replied coolly, and he reached back and snapped the rocket launcher onto his back with a metallic clunk. And with that, he jumped out, reaching up, and grabbing onto the end of the Pelican at the last moment. He looked back over his shoulder, and saw the Spirit's plasma cannon firing up the charge of plasma.

He flipped up onto the top of the Pelican, and grabbed the rocket launcher off his back within a second. John held his breath, and aimed right at the plasma cannon.

He fired the rocket launcher at the exact same time the cannon did. He had to jump to avoid being directly hit, but he could feel the intense heat directly through his armor, making the inner temperature soar, the atmosphere within his armor becoming thick with the extreme heat. He could feel the built-in temperature control instantly go into action, hurrying to cool him down.

John watched the rocket as it soared through the air, and hit the designated target. The plasma cannon was engulfed in an orange-white explosion, and he was quite relieved when he saw the sparking, smoldering weapon plummet towards the ground.

From below, he heard the marines cheer.

The Spirit was now defenseless, and quickly reared off in the way it had originally come. John looked behind him, and was relieved to see their cruiser, the Halcyon-class _Hercules_, waiting for them just ahead. He only hoped they would all reach it in time before the Covenant would come back with more artillery.

John placed the rocket launcher onto his back and swung down again and leapt into the passenger's compartment, and this time, the marines looked a little happier. Most of them were smiling. Almost instantly, he was adorned with praises.

"Good job, Spartan!"

"That was quick thinking, sir."

"Awesome stuff!"

John nodded in response, and placed the rocket launcher back into the box. It was still smoking a little from being fired.

"We're going to arrive at the _Hercules_ momentarily," John announced, "But I doubt that'll be the last we'll see of the Covenant. That drop ship is probably running back to tattle on our whereabouts… what do you think, Lieutenant?"

He turned to Troy, and saw the Junior LT was still brooding. He grunted in response, and seemed very inclined on not saying much more.

"Come on, Troy, cheer up," Renee said as she removed her helmet to scratch the back of her neck. Her short brown hair was all over the place.

"Easy for you to say," Troy snapped, raising his voice, "It's not your responsibility! Those marines that were just killed in that Pelican were _my_ men. You realize how that looks, Private?"

"Their deaths weren't your fault," Renee replied calmly, "That drop ship randomly chose that Pelican. It just as easily could have been us."

Troy looked viscous, and just has he was about to open his mouth to shoot her down more, John interjected.

"She _is_ right Lieutenant," John said, leaning back against the bulkhead, "You can't take the blame for all the deaths of the men in your charge. I've seen many good officers go crazy because of it."

Troy heaved a sigh and leaned back in the seat, and closed his eyes, admitting defeat and shutting up.

Renee looked into the Spartan's mirrored visor. She raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks."

John nodded. Renee flashed him a friendly smile, but she wasn't even sure if he was looking at her when she did it. She let out a little sigh and turned to Amy, who was sitting beside her. Amy was absent-mindedly snapping the clip out of her assault rifle and putting it back in again, looking at the floor in a daze.

"Amy," Renee spoke, but her friend didn't answer her. She jabbed her in the ribs and said again, this time louder, "Earth to Amy, are you listening to me?"

"Oh," Amy looked up, grinning sheepishly and brushing her auburn bangs from her eyes, "Sorry, I was thinking there."

"If I was you, I'd stop fooling with that bloody clip before the thing goes off and kills half of us," Renee leaned back in her chair, "It'd make me relax a little, we're almost to the _Hercules_, and we don't want any more casualties."

"You're awfully uptight," Amy slapped the clip tightly into the rifle for the final time, and laying the gun across her lap, "But, then again, so am I. I'll be glad when we get back to the ship, do I ever need a shower."

Pretty much everyone in the Pelican murmured a response of agreement to that.

"I'm exhausted," Troy grumbled, his eyes a dead giveaway to his current mood. They were very dull looking, like he needed a good forty-eight hours of uninterrupted sleep in cryo, "You know, I could not see another alien again in my life and I would be just fine with that."

"Ditto, Fishead," Amy nodded, "You don't have to say that one twice."

John folded his arms on his chest, half-listening to the marines chatter away, half on alert, scanning the sky for any signs of incoming drop ships. It would be nice if they could make it to the _Hercules_ without another interruption.

He somewhat envied the marines, they wouldn't be assigned another mission until they arrived at another colony to defend, but as soon as he would report back, the Captain and Dr. Catherine Halsey would probably have another mission set up for him and maybe the other Spartans.

Right now, John and the rest of the Spartans, Kelly-087, Linda-058, William-043, and the others, were widespread on partner or solo missions, based all over the galaxy, all working towards the same goal – to prevent the Covenant from finding Earth.

Defending the Colonies was a big issue as well, but it was a losing battle. By now, the Covenant had almost destroyed every single outer UNSC Colony, and was edging closer and closer to Earth's solar system. They might be light years away, but every single one they drew closer meant the more dangerous this war was becoming.

It had been weeks since John had seen Kelly, Linda or any of his other fellow Spartans, and he somewhat missed them, but it was necessary to divide the Spartans as evenly as possible, because the Covenant weren't bothering attacking planet by planet, they split their fleets into even numbers, selected a few planets to target, and dove in.

This was what was making this war so difficult. The Covenant were incredibly larger in numbers than the UNSC, their ships were faster, and weapons more advanced.

Things were getting very grim, but John was trained to have high morale. Not to mention, he was born to win. A brief, foggy memory flashed through his mind, of Dr. Halsey kneeling down to his height, flipping a coin into the air. John blinked, and the memory was gone. He occasionally experienced these types of memories from the past, but there were only a few he could remember, a few he was _allowed_ to remember.

The Pelicans arrived at the _Hercules_ without any further threats. Just as John had predicted, he had just stepped off the Pelican when he was called to the bridge. The rest of the marines poured out of the remaining Pelicans and disbanded to the showers, rooms, the mess or any other places they desired, and John double-timed it to the bridge.

Something about the Captain's voice seemed urgent, so John wasted no time. He was there in a minute.

He was quite surprised to see the Captain, Blake Thomsen and Dr. Halsey waiting to see him. He stopped three feet short of them, and snapped to a salute.

"Captain; Ma'am," John acknowledged them individually. They both nodded in response.

Thomsen looked grim, his grey patches in his hair seemed to have gotten larger, and the wrinkles on his forehead had seemed to have become permanent features, etched deeply into his skin. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth was loosely formed into a frown.

Dr. Halsey looked withered, John noted. Her brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her eye sockets were deeply sunken in like she hadn't slept in a week. She almost struck John as looking sickly.

"Hello John," Dr. Halsey said with a breath, her voice sounding exhausted. She managed to smile, "It's good to see you."

"Likewise ma'am," He stood straighter, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, incredibly tired," she sighed, "I've been monitoring the Covenant activity around Capricornia for days. It's horrible to lose another planet to them, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," John replied, "It sure is."

"Horrible, absolutely horrible," Thomsen added, folding his arms behind his back and clenching his jaw, "I hate to let those bastards destroy another Colony, but there isn't much we can do now. Same goes for Hera. The planet was confirmed glassed early this morning, three million people killed, at least two of our destroyers and countless of our men lost. A couple of your fellow Spartans were defending it…"

"Kelly and James," Dr. Halsey said softly to John.

"We pulled them out just in time," Thomsen continued, "Just like we're doing to you."

"What's my new briefing, sir?" John asked.

"There isn't one," Thomsen replied, "You'll be staying onboard the _Hercules._ We'll be entering Slipspace for a couple of weeks, and there isn't a current mission we feel we need to deploy you on."

"Yes, sir," John saluted.

"I know you want to be out in the field, John," Dr. Halsey said, "But understand the precautions we have to take. We have to carefully cover our Slipspace jumps so that the Covenant don't follow us and wind up anywhere near Earth. If we were to send you on a mission, the Covenant could track you, or us, understand? So we'll be keeping you here until we arrive at our next destination. You'll have some time to relax; do you remember when you were able to do that?"

"No, ma'am," John replied.

"Well we have some things to entertain you," Dr. Halsey smiled, "There's the gym, training facilities, you can keep the marines in line, and there's always cryo if you need a good rest."

"Understood, ma'am," John saluted again, and smiled slightly, although she wasn't able to see it.

Silently, Dr. Halsey, John andThomsen turned and looked out the window of the bridge to Capricornia. The blue hued planet was now golden in color, swarming with Covenant ships. Its surface was on fire, flashing gold and white with the surges of plasma from the cruisers. As they drifted further away, it seemed to glow against the black backdrop of space, another planet lost forever.


	4. A Little Workout

**Chapter Three**

**[March 8, 2535 – Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_** - Slipspace]**

When John left the bridge, the _Hercules_ had entered Slipspace moments afterwards. He went to the armory, where, with the help of a couple technicians, he got out of his MJOLNIR armor, and into the standard grey uniform. Before he pulled on the shirt, he examined his chest. The bruises had fully appeared now, and were black, purple and blue, standing out like a sore thumb on the backdrop of his pale skin. He grimaced at the sight, and then pulled on the shirt, happy to hide them.

John flexed his arms and bent his knees, stretching out the stiff uniform. Despite it being a little tight around his chest and a half inch too short on the pant legs and sleeves, it fit almost perfectly. Dr. Halsey must have notified the crewmen of his visit and got them to sniff out the largest uniforms available.

Well, he thought contemplatively, this would be different; time in Slipspace onboard a ship in which Dr. Halsey was the only one he knew well and the rest being marines. He contemplated cryo sleep, and wasn't sure that he would rule it out as an option just yet.

On the way out the door, he collected his other two pairs of uniform, a pair of sweats, and a muscle shirt, from the table, slinging them under one arm, then left the armory.

As John wound his way through the hallways – he could find his way around fairly easily, all Halcyon class cruisers had the same layout – he felt naked and vulnerable without his armor. It was easy to say that he had spent the last couple of weeks with it on. A part of him wanted to dart back to the armory and shimmy back into his armor and spend the next two weeks safely asleep in a cryo tube.

The other part of him told him he'd get used to not wearing his armor eventually, which was true. He may get used to it, but he wouldn't ever _like_ it. It was when his armor was off that he realized what it did for him. His reflexes seemed slowed and he missed his reliable HUD.

He passed several marines and officers in the hallway, and they all gave him a second glance as he walked by. It was probably his paleness, or his height. Or maybe even the ugly bruise on his neck. Some of the marines saluted him, uncertain of his rank, although he wasn't wearing one. Was he that intimidating to others?

Whatever it was, they still looked at him, armor or no armor. At least they could see his face now, it was certain he was human. No longer did he seem like some faceless, emotionless, gun wielding robot. He wondered if they were able to make the connection upon seeing him that he was the Spartan from earlier – some might've, but nothing was said – but then again if he was as intimidating as everyone seemed to think, who would say anything in the first?

When John located his designated room, he walked in and wasn't surprised with its contents. It was bland, with white walls and grey tiled floor and ceiling, with a single bed much too small for him, a table with a single drawer and a chair, and a locker. All of these were bolted to the floor.

John smirked to himself, and sighed, and stepped into the room, as the door slid closed behind him with a mechanical hiss.

It was standard issue officer's quarters. Despite being a few square feet larger, it was no different and no more lavishly furnished than the marine's sleeping quarters. Due to its simplicity, there wasn't much to be done to make it unique. Not that John had any belongings to personalize it with anyway – nor would he be here for long, he thought. A couple of weeks, maybe.

John went over to his locker and opened it, and set his clothes inside. He was just about to close the locker door, when he changed his mind and pulled out the pair of sweats and the green muscle shirt. He was going to go to the gym; it wouldn't hurt see what it contained. If there were enough weights, it may be able to entertain him for a couple of days at least.

He quickly got undressed and threw his uniform onto his bed, and pulled on the other clothes, and then walked out of his room.

Amy and Renee walked down the hallway, dressed in the standard uniforms. Their hair was wet, since they had just come from the showers. The showers hadn't provided as much refreshment as they'd hoped; since to the limit on water, the showers were timed to shut off after five minutes. There was no time to really enjoy the hot water, it was shampoo your hair, wash your body, shave what needed to be shaved, and get out. That was one disadvantage of long periods of space travel, and it was this reason that some marines just preferred cryo sleep.

The two Privates had recently located their rooms – found them bland and uninteresting and unpacked their few belongings into the lockers. Renee, exhausted from the long day, had just been about to lay down and go to sleep,when Amy had come calling, begging her to go for a walk around the ship's corridors.

"Can't we go for a walk later?" Renee had groaned sleepily into her pillow, "I'm tired. Don't you ever get tuckered out?"

"There'll be plenty of time to sleep," Amy had shrugged and dragged her friend from her room, "I've heard that we're going to be in Slipspace for at least a couple of weeks. I might even go into cryo once things around here start getting boring."

Now, here they were, strolling the hallways to Amy's leisure. Renee was trying to wipe off her sleepiness, but all she could think about was her bed and how comfortable it had been when she'd surrendered to lie down in it.

"As boring as things may get," Renee put her hands in her pockets, "I won't be going into cryo – never cared for it much since I got freezer burn that one time."

"Well you can try and get the relationship between you and Troy sorted out while I'll have a nice long snooze," Amy let out a chuckle, nudging her friend with her elbow, "Whatever I is you two are so sore about; or it's just him, isn't it?"

"He started it," Renee raised her eyebrow, frowning, "I joined the UNSC, and he totally freaked on my ass. Surprised he didn't say anything to you!"

"Oh he did, but I don't think he gave me such a tongue lashing in comparison to what you received."

"We were already screwed up since he dropped out of high school; his thinking me a child when I enlisted totally put the icing on the cake. I don't see what the big deal is, anyway. I remember when we were kids it was all he could boast about. UNSC this, UNSC that! 'We'll join together, RenRen!' He was so convinced that the three of us would join the UNSC together and save the world from the Covenant," Renee sighed, "Now here we all are and he's got a bee in his bonnet."

"Troy's changed," Amy shook her head, "The Academy kicked that childish streak outa him, that's for certain – and you have to remember, we're not kids anymore, anyway."

"I think he still has his goofy side somewhere," Renee narrowed her eyes, "Beneath all that cockiness, crankiness and officer training. Do you remember that video Kirkland took of him in grade ten, where he was making goat noises in the middle of class?"

The two of them laughed at the memory.

"I remember," Amy chuckled, shaking her head, "But making goat noises is probably on the list of things Lieutenant Fisher is least likely to do nowadays."

"Add being nice to that list, too," Renee sighed, "He's as likely to do that as make animal noises, in fact, I'd expect the latter from him sooner."

Suddenly, the two heard a voice from behind address them. It was smooth and masculine, and authoritative.

"Excuse me."

Amy and Renee turned around to see a very tall man, dressed in a white wife-beater and shorts. His skin was pale; he had brown hair, brown eyes, a strong nose, square jaw, a straight mouth, and a scar across his right cheek, just below his eye. Renee took notice of all the bruises visible on his arms and neck. Who was this guy? She and Amy couldn't help but stare, not recalling seeing him anywhere before. He looked at them each individually with a penetrating gaze. He raised an eyebrow.

"I said, excuse me," he said, bemused.

Renee felt her cheeks grow hot, feeling immediately like an idiot for staring. Since she was the one most in his way, she quickly stepped aside, muttering,

"Sorry sir."

"No worries, Private," he said in monotone before continuing briskly down the hall. Renee and Amy were silent until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.

"Jeez," Amy was the first to break the silence; she looked at Renee then back at the direction he had gone, "What a tank! Did you _see _that guy's arms? They were as big around as my waist, I swear!" She put her hands around her waist for emphasis.

Renee was still feeling stupid for staring at the man.

"Sure," She shrugged, although in reality she hadn't paid much attention to the size of the man's arms. She had been too perplexed by the scars and bruises over his body, his serious chiseled face, his smooth authoritative voice, "I feel stupid; I was in his way and didn't think to move!"

Amy's lips curled into a sly grin.

"You don't hear much when you're not paying attention," she replied, "You stared as much as I, and with good reason. Not a bad looking fellow at all. I wonder what his name is – and what rank. There was something awfully authoritative about him. Should we have saluted, I wonder? Didn't look like a recruit to me, I'll tell you that much."

"He was definitely a higher rank – and a man of importance. Did you see the bruises on him? It looked like he went through hell and back. If I was bruised up like that, I sure wouldn't be strutting around; I'd probably be bedridden."

"Oh!" Amy suddenly cried.

"What?" she demanded, annoyed by her friend's sudden outburst.

"I just made the connection," Amy snapped her fingers, "He was strong, he was tall, he was roughed up. I bet you anything that was the Spartan from today. He's on this ship, after all."

"What?" Renee bit back a laugh "That couldn't have been him – surely the Spartan must've been transferred somewhere else."

"I dunno," Amy shrugged with a grin, "There's a guy under that armor. I bet you my dinner tonight that's who it was. I thought his voice sounded familiar, think about it, don't you?"

When she thought about it, something about the man's voice had been familiar, but it easily could be a coincidence.

"I really don't think it was him," she said, shaking her head.

"Suit yourself."

Ahead of them, Troy came from one of the adjacent corridors. He too had on a pair of sweats and a simple white t-shirt. He glanced momentarily their way, but continued on ahead of them without a word.

"He's still sore about the mission, I bet," Amy whispered lowly, and then she called after him, "Hey Fish!"

Troy looked back over his shoulder and delivered the Private a look that could kill.

"I see what you've been talking about, RenRen. He's not going to treat us like we're pieces of shit," Amy said, quickening her pace and grabbing her friend by the arm, "And I think I need a work out. Come on."

It didn't take Amy long to catch up with her childhood friend in the gym. When he realized the two Privates were following after him, he stopped, letting out an irritable sigh, leaning against one of the exercise machines.

"What?" he asked, seeming rather impatient.

"What was with that glare you gave us?" Amy demanded – she had the gall for both her and Renee combined, "Just cause you're a Lieutenant now doesn't mean you get to ignore us."

Troy responded, but the argument between him and Amy went in one ear and out the other for Renee. Her attention was stolen when she saw that man again, who Amy believed to be the Spartan from earlier. He was in the highest gravity section of the gym, and he was putting the desired weights on the bar. She watched in awe as he lifted weights with graceful ease.

This guy was strong; incredibly strong.

_"That guy is the Spartan."_ Amy's words echoed in her head. Renee suddenly snapped to when he looked right up at her and they made eye contact. She instantly felt embarrassed, and wanted to leave, but she couldn't, so she decided to quickly turn her attentions to Amy and Troy.

Troy was looking annoyed, and he was standing there, arms crossed on his chest, as Amy was mouthing him off.

"You know what, LT?" Amy raised her voice, folding her arms across her chest, "You've become the biggest jerk since you joined the UNSC. What the hell happened to how you used to be, huh?"

Renee put a warning hand on Amy's shoulder.

"Come on, Amy," She said softly, glancing slightly back at the Spartan. He was benching now, but he was no doubt watching the developing scene out of the corner of his eye.

John paused, and put the weight back onto the bar, ducking out from under it and sitting up. The situation, based on his previous instincts, was escalating to a dangerous level. He wasn't so much worried about a conflict, but Amy's shooting off could get her into trouble, considering her rank of Private. She didn't seem to care Troy was ranks above her. It came to his realization that the three must have known each other before the UNSC, because as he crossed the gym he caught words that referred to the past.

"Amy, just stop," Renee was begging. She glanced over and her heart jumped when she saw that the man was _coming _over to them. Amy ignored her friend, shrugging off her hand from her shoulder and went back to arguing with Troy.

"Stop it!" John's voice tore through the air, and Amy, Troy, and Renee stopped immediately, all spinning to face him. He stopped a foot away and looked each one of them over. He realized that they probably had no idea who he was, but he didn't care.

"This is ridiculous, marines," John said sharply, narrowing his brown eyes at Amy, "Whatever you and Lieutenant Fisher are arguing about, I think you should settle it like adults instead of immaturely bickering like a couple of kids."

Renee took this as another chance to look at him closer. When she looked closely, beneath the bruises, she noticed he also had visible scars on his arms, and there were probably more beneath his muscle shirt. She looked back up to his face, and found that he was looking right at her – and being caught staring once more, she felt her cheeks redden. She cleared her throat and looked away.

"Now, what's the problem?" John asked, drawing his attentions back to Amy and Troy.

"There's no problem," Troy said through gritted teeth, "And it's none of your business."

Troy didn't know who he was; he thought he was a marine. He thought about correcting him, but maybe it was best that he didn't tell them he was a Spartan that they knew out on the field, that he was Master Chief. He kind of enjoyed this anonymity when he wasn't wearing his armor.

"Maybe it's not," John replied, "But I know when you and Smythe are acting like a couple of kids, not adults, not marines. We're in the middle of a war, and we don't need to be fighting amongst ourselves when we got a whole alien race on our asses. We have enough enemies already, you don't need to start going at each other's throats, am I understood?"

Renee raised her eyebrows in surprise. This guy clearly put Amy and Troy in their places, and Troy, more than Amy didn't look so happy about it. The two feuding associates exchanged glares but then nodded.

"Kilburn," John addressed her, and she immediately jumped to attention.

"Sir?" she asked.

"You did good to try and moderate the situation," he said, a little smirk coming on his lips, "You might need to be a little more upfront next time, but hopefully there won't be a next time, right, Lieutenant? Smythe?"

"Right," Troy mumbled unenthusiastically.

"Now, if you two are here to use the gym's facilities, fine," John said, looking to Renee and Amy, "But if not, I think it'd be best if you leave."

Renee looked to Amy for an answer.

"What do you wanna do?" she said lowly.

"I need a work out," Amy snapped angrily, "You can go if you want, but I need to punch something."

"You're not even wearing gym clothes…" Renee started, but Amy found the nearest punching bag and began pounding it. Renee shook her head; Amy had always been the one to get angry easily. Her temper was equal three people when she really let loose, and over the years Renee had learned to calm her down – a feat that most others were unable to do.

Troy walked away from her and John, and went to the other side of the gym, as far away from them as possible. Renee decided to brave, and just as John was turning to walk away.

"Hey," she said.

John turned sharply to look at her.

"You're strangely familiar," she declared.

"Am I?" John's face portrayed nothing, his expression blank. This threw her off, maybe he wasn't familiar at all – she was going on Amy's theory.

"I haven't seen your face before," Renee felt kind of stupid now, "I… heard you. You're voice; I swear I've heard it someplace before."

"You might have," John gave a light shrug of his shoulders.

"You're too authoritative to be just a marine," she announced, "And those scars and bruises, you're too tough…" she trailed off, watching his expression for any changes that would give away whether he was the Spartan or not. Something came alive in his dark eyes, a lively glitter that hadn't been there seconds before.

Amy stopped from punching the punching bag to look back over her shoulder. When she saw Renee talking to the man whom she thought to be the Spartan, she instantly stopped and craned her neck to hear as much as possible without looking obvious.

"I think I know who you are," Renee made the final guess; "You're the Spartan from earlier."

John didn't respond; he just looked at her, with a slight amusement dancing in his eyes. A correct guess indeed, he momentarily debated whether to confirm or deny her accusations. Did he wanting her to know who he was?

Suddenly, Renee's friend Amy jumped in beside her, her anger from before all cooled down.

"I was right!" She mused, smiling widely, "The Spartan! Good to see you, sir."

Troy paused from lifting a dumbbell to watch the scene. Did he hear what he thought he heard? That man was the Spartan?

John hadn't even replied to confirm Amy's first words when she started up again.

"How'd you get those nasty bruises?" Amy asked, "And that scar under your eye? I thought your armor prevented those type of things from happening."

"It doesn't protect me one hundred percent," John answered calmly, non-directly confirming their speculations.

"I was right!" Amy cried again, looking to Renee, she gave her a little punch to the shoulder, "I was right, I told you he was the Spartan – and you didn't think so!"

John was kind of amused with Amy's reaction. He hadn't seen anything exactly like it before in his life. She was excited that he was who she thought he was. Normally, when people found out, they were a little bit intimidated and their respect for him went way up.

"Do you ever shut your gob, Private Smythe?" Troy yelled from across the room, "Quit squealing over him. You're probably pissing him off; he wants to work out without having any interruptions from immature fools like you and Kilburn."

Amy flashed him the finger, screwing her face up in a sarcastic mock.

"Sit on it and rotate," she snapped with instantaneous aggression.

"Watch yourself, Private," John said lowly, "That's a Lieutenant you're speaking to."

"Before he was Lieutenant, he was the goofy ass-wipe I called a friend," Amy leaned back against the elliptical machine, "Both Renee and I knew him since we were kids; we grew up together. Too bad he had to grow up to be a miserable bastard. He was the best guy, until he hit the UNSC, then bam! Someone gave him the rank of a Lieutenant, and congrats, Troy, you're a full-blown asshole!"

Renee laughed, but covered her mouth quickly as the giggles sounded. Amy looked impressed, studying John's face, seeming surprised when his expression altered none. The way Amy had with words was in a way, humorous, and perhaps he could chuckle if she wasn't talking about the Lieutenant who was fifty feet away in the same room – no doubt within hearing distance.

Amy and Renee's behavior was different from what John was used to. These two just were warming up to him like he was any other person, especially Amy. She seemed to think herself humorous, and had a slightly obnoxious personality. She didn't seem to mind opening up to him. Renee though, seemed a little more withdrawn, but then again, she wasn't like Amy, flashing middle fingers to Lieutenants and cursing them upside down when they were within hearing distance.

Renee had a habit, John noticed, of becoming red in the face. Blushing, it was called, he thought. Which was kind of odd because he hadn't in his recollections had ever made anyone, especially a woman, blush before. He wasn't even sure how he did, he wasn't doing anything that made sense for her to blush.

Then again, John was trained in weapons, fighting tactics, strategic planning, and killing Covenant. He wasn't a whiz in human psychology or emotions; in fact, he hadn't had much experience even properly interacting with other people. His interactions were rarely without salutes, standing at attention, and using "Sir" or "Ma'am" in his sentences. He was taught the basics, but Renee and Amy would surely have a lot more experience than he had, since they had once been civilians.

Besides, it's not like the Covenant would sit down with him and have a conversation about the weather or some such thing. His job was to kill the Covenant and defend humanity. He didn't need socialization skills.

"How come you didn't tell us before?" Amy suddenly asked, "That you were the Spartan?"

"I enjoy the anonymity," John replied, "People tend to treat me more normally when they don't know who I am."

"Psh! Spartan or no Spartan, you seem like a damn nice guy," Amy said, "And, who exactly are you? You're a Spartan, but…"

"Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan 117," his title rolled off his tongue almost automatically.

"Well, Master Chief," Amy nodded, "Renee and I are gonna work out for a while – we'll let you get back to your own business."

"Sorry about distracting you with that stupid incident, sir," Renee was quick to apologize.

"That's fine," John replied, "We'll have at least two weeks, if not more in Slipspace. I'll have plenty of time to come here."

Amy, Renee and John separated with no further words; John went to his high grav section, and the girls went to the section that was considered normal. They approached the treadmills, and each jumped on one.

They started them up, starting off slow.

"So," Amy whispered, smiling, "A real looker, isn't he?"

"No," Renee replied, pressing the button impatiently on her treadmill to get it up to a speed-walk pace, finding herself unable to meet her friend's eyes.

"You're lying," Amy said almost right away, "You can't think he's not good looking. I mean, are you kidding me? The chiseled face, those dark eyes! He seems to like you."

"He barely knows me."

"That doesn't matter. _You _seem like him for certain, at least."

"Oh, piss off!" Renee reached over and gave her friend a shove – this wasn't the first time Amy had pulled off something like this. If there were any decent looking males around, she would try to get her to admit she liked them.

Amy laughed loudly.

"Hey, don't make me fall off this thing!"

"Well you deserve it, starting trouble," Renee glared at her friend with a little smirk, "First with Troy, now you're trying to get me going."

"I am not picking a fight with you! I'm just trying to get you to admit the truth."

"You've heard the truth!" Renee defended herself, laughing. To show Amy, she reached over and pulled the safety from her treadmill. It slowed down and came to a stop.

"Bitch!" Amy grabbed at the safety key in Renee's hand, but she threw it across the room. Amy laughed, "Oh, you wanna play that game, huh?" Reaching over, she increased the speed on Renee's treadmill to a speed beyond her capability.

"No!" Renee cried frantically, laughter in her voice. She tried to keep up with the treadmill's pace while reaching for the button to slow the damn thing down. She lasted maybe three seconds before she was thrown off the treadmill, tumbling to the floor and landing on her stomach. Renee felt a little pain in her chest, similar to how it had felt when she had leapt from the Warthog - but didn't think anything of it. She looked at Amy, who started laughing hysterically – and it didn't take her long before she joined her in the laughter.

Troy let out a big sigh, and left the gym, clearly pissed off, mumbling things under his breath. John watched him leave, noting the Lieutenant had a short temper. He glanced over at Renee and Amy, and their somewhat childish antics on the treadmills, slightly admiring their humor. That's what Troy should probably realize, that a little humor in the middle of a war was a good thing to get your morale up a little.

Amy reached over and turned off Renee's treadmill, and jumped off hers and walked over to her friend, who was still lying on her stomach on the floor, laughing. She held out her hands.

"Get up already," she grinned.

Renee reached up and grabbed her friend's hands and Amy went to pulled her up. Halfway to her feet, however, Renee grimaced, and dropped back to the floor. The sharp pain was back, like it had been when the Warthog flipped – but worse and impeding her ability to stand. Great, she thought, what did I do? Her expression portrayed her pain, she knew, for seconds later Amy asked:

"You okay?"

"Fine," Renee let out a deep breath, trying to brush it off as nothing. Taking Amy's hands once more, she tried to stand, but got no farther than last time – the pain bringing her back to the floor. Her face screwed up with pain.

"You're not alright. What's wrong?"

"I don't know; gimme a minute."

"What's going on?" The Spartan's voice.

_Shit_, Renee thought, glancing up to see he was now beside Amy, looking down on her. She shook her head stubbornly, taking a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside – but letting up was something it didn't want to do. For Christ's sake, what did she do to herself?

"I'm fine; I can get up," Renee was trying to brave it out, but as soon as she tried to get to her feet once more – this time without Amy's help, a sharp pain stabbed her in the ribs, and she clutched the point of pain instinctively, giving away the location of the problem.

Amy, without saying anything, kneeled down beside her friend. Her mouth a determined fine line, she reached over and yanked up Renee's shirt, and almost instantly let out a low whistle.

"Sweet Jesus, girl," she remarked.

Renee looked down in surprise, to see that across her stomach and her lower ribs, was a huge purple and red bruise. Bewildered, she realized it must've happened when she'd leapt from the Warthog. She never even noticed it when she was getting changed.

The Spartan, who observed quietly, kneeled down beside Amy, leaning in to get a better look.

"You didn't just get this now," John made eye contact with her. He had witnessed her tumble from the treadmill, "You should see a doctor immediately."

"It's just a bruise," Renee shrugged. She went to pull down her shirt, but Amy wouldn't let her, "Amy, I'll be fine, just help me up!"

"How the hell did you get it? That's one mean looking bruise, RenRen."

"It must've been when the Warthog flipped," she answered, "When I jumped from it, I landed awkwardly, jammed my assault rifle into my ribs. I thought nothing of it – and it hasn't really bothered me 'til now…"

"Let me see," John spoke up. He reached forward and gently prodded at the bruise – and Renee grimaced – and he didn't miss it.

"My guess would be you've probably got a fractured rib," John declared, sitting back on his haunches, "And that tumble off the treadmill probably didn't help." He shot a look at Amy, and then looked back at Renee, narrowing his eyes, "Let's take you to the infirmary."

"No, I'm sure it's nothing bad, sir," Renee tried to convince him otherwise, but the Spartan wasn't about to argue. He slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, and in a second he was on his feet with her in his arms. Not expecting this, Renee felt her cheeks redden in sudden embarrassment.

"I'm sure I can walk, sir," she told him, but put one arm around his neck timidly. Being this close to him rattled her, he was just a stranger. He was really warm, she noted. She glanced to Amy, and she smiled ever so slightly, a smile she wasn't sure how to interpret.

"No, walking could possibly make it worse," John told her. She was awfully stubborn, he realized, "Even then, walking would just be painful. You wouldn't want to cause yourself unnecessary pain, Private."

Renee let out a small sigh, but didn't object. He carried her towards the exit of the gym, and with a glance, she was reassured Amy was coming with them. What a way to become acquainted.

Amy had to jog to keep up with John's long strides, and it was obvious that she was getting quite a kick out of the Spartan carrying her best friend. She looked up at Renee in his arms, making deliberate eye contact. A smirk on her face, she raised her eyebrows at Renee. Renee gave her a glare, but Amy's smile only got wider.

John carried Renee to the medical bay, Amy following closely behind. The room smelled like disinfectant and blood, and it instantly had an uncomfortable atmosphere. There were a few chairs, a desk, and a plant in the first room, and it branched off to others, examination offices, doctor's offices, and one large room lined with beds for the wounded. Those wounded on Capricornia could be heard groaning in pain in the next room.

"I don't want to be here," Renee said lowly; the place gave her the chills.

One of the doors to one of the offices opened, and a woman wearing a lab coat strode out. She had graying brown hair, yet her face, although being tired, portrayed a woman no older than her mid-forties. She looked surprised when she saw them.

"John," she said instantly, "What are you doing here?"

"John?" Amy remarked, looking to the Spartan. Renee too, looked at him and saw his expression changed slightly upon being addressed by the doctor. John, so that was his name.

"Dr. Halsey, ma'am," John couldn't salute because he had Renee in his arms, but he gave her a polite nod, "I've brought Private Renee Kilburn here; she's sustained an injury from earlier today, and now has only brought it to her friend's attention. She's in pain – has difficulty walking. I think it might be a fractured rib."

"I can look at her," Dr. Halsey replied, waving them into a private room, "They are a little short on the medical personnel, and Thomsen saw my Ph.D. in my records and threw me in here from the bridge to help the others."

They all walked into the examination room, and Dr. Halsey closed the door. The room became instantly quiet. John set Renee down on the cot, the sanitary paper making a rustling sound as he did. He then stood back against the door, straightening to an impressive at-ease.

Amy plunked down in a chair across from the cot, chewing her fingernail nervously.

"Let's see what's wrong," Dr. Halsey said, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, "Lift your shirt up for me, please."

Renee did, and Dr. Halsey didn't seem shocked by what she saw, in fact, her expression changed little.

"Mhm," she said, narrowing her eyes, "Nasty bruise. This might hurt for a little…"

She did the same thing John did, poked and prodded around the bruised area, and it did hurt, but Renee braved it out and didn't flinch.

"That's what I thought," Dr. Halsey said to herself, and then stood back and looked to John, "You were right, John. A fractured rib; the eighth one on the right side to be precise."

"Is it serious?" Amy asked almost instantly.

"No," Dr. Halsey replied, "If it had been her lower rib that was fractured, it would have been a bigger problem, it could have damaged the diaphragm, but luckily, we can treat it, and you'll be out of here within a few minutes."

She smiled at Renee, and she weakly smiled back.

"Alright, I'll need you to remove your shirt, please," Dr. Halsey instructed.

Upon hearing this, John cleared his throat.

"Would you like me to wait outside, ma'am?" John asked.

"Yes please," Dr. Halsey and Renee said at the same time.

Amy bit back a laugh, and Dr. Halsey looked at her with a little smile. John turned sharply and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Renee sighed, and unbuttoned her shirt, ignoring the pain in her chest as she did. She shrugged it off and instantly felt cold wearing just her bra.

"Okay," Dr. Halsey said, and she turned away and stood on her tiptoes and opened the cupboard. She took out a roll of adhesive tape and bandages. She took the tape and put it over the area of the fractured rib, and one above and below the area. Then she began bandaging it.

"Is that the Master Chief's name?" Amy spoke up, watching Dr. Halsey as she worked, "John?"

"Yes it is; John-117."

"He's a pretty nice guy," Amy chattered on, "I mean he offered to carry Renee here – well he didn't give her much of a choice - very helpful."

"He is," Dr. Halsey smiled, "Most people are intimidated by him – like they are whenever they meet a Spartan. I've known him since he was a child, beneath his training, he is a very good person."

She finished wrapping the injury, and tied it neatly in a little knot.

"There," she said, "Now I'm just going to prescribe some pain killers, and you should be fine. Just restrict your movements, don't do any heavy exercises. It will heal in good time, and you're lucky we're in Slipspace travel, because you will be able to rest. You'll probably be good as new when we reach our next destination. And, although I know, it may hurt to cough right now; I recommend that you cough anyway. It will prevent secretions from pooling in the lungs, which could lead to pneumonia."

Renee nodded, and she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the pain. She shrugged on her shirt and began buttoning it up.

"You can call John in," Dr. Halsey told Amy.

John must have heard through the door, because he came in before Amy even went to speak. Dr. Halsey smiled at him, and then handed a bottle of pills to Renee.

"Take two of these a day," she instructed, "Come and see me when you run out, or another doctor here. They'll be able to get you more if you find you're still needing them."

"Okay, thank you," Renee smiled.

"You're welcome," Dr. Halsey smiled back, and Amy got to her feet, looking to John.

"Grab her, John, let's go," Amy said, using his name for the first time. John looked at her for a second, and then scooped Renee up off the table.

"I'll see you, ma'am," he said to Dr. Halsey.

"See you, John," she replied warmly.

And with that they all left the room, and then walked out into the hall. Amy took in a breath.

"Glad I'm out of there," Amy sighed, "That smell was so sickening. So Renee, how are you feeling?"

"A little bit better," she sighed. She looked up to John, admiring his profile – he had a very straight nose, thin lips, a masculine chin. His expression, however; was much like a statue. She couldn't quite read it – it seemed almost neutral.

"I'll get you back to your room," John spoke, glancing down – no doubt catching her looking at him, "Just tell me where it is, Private."

John took Renee back to her room, where both he and Amy instructed her to lay down and go to sleep. Renee was reluctant, but she realized when John set her down on her bed and she lay back, how exhausted she was.

"Get some sleep," Amy told her, "You look like you need it."

"Hope you are feeling better soon," John said, the words almost coming awkwardly from his mouth. He was standing in the doorway, looking almost edgy to leave, like he couldn't wait to bolt out the door.

"Thank you – for everything," Renee smiled.

To this, he only nodded – and then left the room without a word. Amy watched him go, and waited until the automatic door hissed shut behind him to let out a deep sigh and take a seat on the edge of Renee's bed. Patting her friend's leg, she said,

"What a day, huh?"

Renee nodded sleepily, folding her arms on her chest.

"So, what was it like for John," Amy continued, putting emphasis on his name, "To carry you to and from the medical bay? I thought it was quite nice of him, to carry you in those big strong arms!"

"I was embarrassed," Renee admitted, looked up at the ceiling. She let out a little laugh, the pain in her ribs only bothering her slightly, "What a way to meet him. He must've thought me a burden."

"Didn't seem to," Amy shrugged with a grin, watching color come to her friend's cheeks. It didn't take much for Renee to blush, "He seems to be quite an awkward man, don't you think? It's like he's unsure how to carry on a conversation."

Renee shrugged, half wishing her friend would stop talking about him. She was trying her best to get him out of her mind, how it felt for him to hold her close, in those same arms he flipped a Warthog with earlier, the same arms he used the rocket launcher to destroy that Spirit and save their Pelican. A true hero – and, recalling the mental image of his face – a handsome one.

"Oh," Amy announced, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of pills, "You should take these," she unscrewed the cap. Renee held out her hand and Amy shook two of the little white pills into her palm. Renee popped them into her mouth and grimaced slightly. It hurt to even swallow.

"You'll be okay," Amy assured her, "I'm going to go myself," she stood, "So you get some sleep, and have sweet dreams about John." A smirk crossed her lips.

"Oh, you; get out!" Renee reached for a pillow to toss at her friend, but Amy was already gone out of the room, laughing her way down the hallway.


	5. Unwelcome Followers

**Chapter Four**

**[March 9****th****, 2535 – Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_**-****Slipspace]**

It was always so confusing during Slipspace travel to try and keep track of days. Since the universe was always black - save for the billions of glittering stars - and there was no rising and setting of the sun, you often had no clue what day it was. That meant you slept strange hours too.

John had returned to the gym after he had left Amy and Renee, and was surprised to find out it was three in the morning of the 9th of March. He benched pressed some weights for a while, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the last couple of days, especially the events that had occurred in the past few hours. He thought of Private Kilburn, and got a good vision of her small oval face in his mind; her determined brown eyes; her warm smile. In the middle of lifting weights, he was confused when an uncontrollable smile crawled its way to his lips – unsure why he would smile. It was something he rarely did

As he lifted the weights repetitively, he felt sort of strange; his mind was buzzing. He was overcome with an odd feeling he hadn't felt before, a certain feeling of happiness, as if he were especially giddy or something. What exactly did he have to be giddy about? A day ago he'd abandoned another planet to the Covenant; there had been losses for the UNSC. The war wasn't going well for them. Yet, here he was, with a small smile on his face? He felt as if he was betraying the entire situation. Why on earth did he feel this way – and right now, of all times? It just didn't make sense to him. It was almost an emotion, or was it? John wasn't sure. All he knew that the feeling was inside him, and when he snapped to the attention of his outer feelings, he realized his body was screaming for a rest. His muscles ached and burned, his bruises throbbed. He must have been awake for almost forty-eight hours by now. So he set the weights down, and didn't even bother putting them away on their appropriate rungs. He was the only one who used that particular area of the gym anyhow.

Running his fingers through his short hair, John sighed drowsily and admitted defeat, and dawdled his way back to his room. He walked in and fell onto the bed, his legs hanging over the end of it. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Amy had cursed Renee's dreams. It turned out John happened to be in her dreams, like she'd had teased her about. Only, in the dream, they weren't on the _Hercules_. She and John were in the middle of a barren, burned field. Rubble of a city surrounded them. The horizon was glowing just like it had been on Capricornia, the air was filled with smoke. John was wearing his Spartan armor. Out of nowhere, hordes of Covenant came, Grunts, Elites, and Jackals. John whipped out his assault rifle, and she hers, and as the aliens approached, she heard the sputter of the assault rifle behind her. She turned her attention to a charging Elite running at her, saliva dripping from its four jaws, a plasma rifle clutched in its long fingers. It opened its mouth and roared, and she squeezed the trigger, but no bullets came out. She panicked, and looked down at the rifle, feeling fear shoot through her. She dropped the assault rifle and reached to her belt for her grenade, but her hand was like lead, her arm wouldn't move. She opened her mouth to call for John, but she had no voice. The Elite shot at her, and an intense burn struck her in the chest as the white-hot plasma seared through her armor and into her flesh…

Renee awoke screaming. She shot up, and the burning followed her into consciousness. She realized that her ribcage was on fire, searing pain that tore across her entire chest. Breathing heavily, images from the dream still freshly spun through her head as she reached over to the bedside table, grasping for the pain killers. She grabbed the bottle, snapped off the cap and hastily shook two pills into her hand and swallowed them.

Ignoring the stab of pain in her chest, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, and held her head in her hands. She let out a deep sigh.

The dream had seemed so real, so frightening. She cursed Amy under her breath for mentioning John before she had gone to sleep. Thanks to the dream, Renee no longer had any desire to sleep.

Bravely, and slowly, she got to her feet, and the pain wasn't as bad as it had been. She was quite pleased with herself when she was able to stand almost fully straight without the fractured rib being much of a burden. Well, she thought, relieved, at least John didn't have to carry her around anymore.

She wasn't even sure what time it was, but she undressed and got into a comfortable pair of olive green sweatpants and a white t-shirt. She pulled her dog-tags out over her shirt and then gathered her uniform up in her arms to take it to laundry to be cleaned.

When she stepped out into the hallway, it wasn't empty. Several marines were out and about, including a very familiar individual. She felt slightly uncertain when she saw Troy Fisher walking her way. He was no longer wearing his gym clothes, but his uniform, that clearly boasted his rank of Lieutenant on his arm.

Renee was hoping for no interaction as she hobbled down the hallway, ignoring the little stab of pain she got with each footstep, but Troy stopped and greeted her.

"Good morning," he said, clearing up Renee's question as to the time of day. Renee was a little unsure about Troy's friendly mood. She raised an eyebrow, but smiled politely.

"Morning, Lieutenant."

"I heard what happened to you last night," Troy said lowly, "About the fractured rib. I can't help but feel it was my fault initially – flipping the Warthog. I hope you feel better soon, Private."

"Thank you, sir. You're in a particularly good mood – that's unusual."

Troy frowned, ignoring her comment.

"You're in my squad, Kilburn. I'm concerned - I wouldn't want you to be out of commission."

"Oh," Renee nodded; looking him over, shifting her clothes under her other arm.

"I'll be seeing you, Private," Troy's expression hardened as he cut off the conversation abruptly, and he continued off down the hallway. Renee looked back over her shoulder at him as he walked away. He still had the slight limp on his left foot. When he was sixteen, he had broken his leg in a car accident. He had been driving when the car had hydroplaned and veered into the ditch and hit a tree. She remembered hearing of the accident and visiting him in the hospital, being relieved to learn that he'd be fine.

"It wouldn't kill you to call me Renee, you know," she called after him, but he didn't even acknowledge that she had spoken. He continued on down the hallway. Renee turned back around and sighed.

"Amazing," Amy's voice suddenly broke the silence, and Renee jumped in surprise. Amy was just ahead of her, and she was standing in the doorway of her room, wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

"Amy, you scared me," Renee laughed slightly.

"What a bastard," Amy remarked about Troy, "Sweet as sugar to you one day, but hates your guts the next. He's worried about _you _– or so he's letting on. He should be worried about himself. I think he should go get checked for bipolarity, the crazy fool. Oh, you're walking, good for you!"

"That I am. It hurts a little, but I just took my daily dose of drugs so I'll be fine."

"How was your sleep?" Amy asked sweetly with a little grin.

"I'm well rested - but the dreams were horrible," Renee put one hand on her hip, "I so happened to have a nightmare, where I was shot and killed by an Elite."

"John didn't save you?" Amy looked surprised, a little smirk on her face.

"He was in it but no he didn't save me," Renee replied, "How was your sleep?"

"Good," Amy ran her fingers through her tangled curls, "Didn't dream a thing." On a second thought, she took a hair-band off her wrist and pulled her unruly hair back into a little ponytail at the base of her neck.

"I'm surprised you didn't go into cryo," Renee raised her eyebrow.

"And miss something?" Amy looked surprised, "I wouldn't go into cryo now that you and the Spartan are building a little relationship!" She winked after saying this, smiling broadly.

"We're not building any relationship," Renee frowned, "I met the man two days ago, was properly introduced yesterday, and you think I'm in love with him."

"Are you still crushing on Troy?" Amy asked flatly, looking at her with sudden disapproval.

"Imagine," Sarcasm abundant in Renee's voice.

"Well then," Amy smiled, "John's a much better catch, anyhow."

"You can have him," Renee leaned back against the wall.

"No, I have Wayne, remember?"

"Ah, yes, the doctor," she grinned.

"He's studyingto become a doctor; he's got a few years ahead of him yet. I just hope this war ends soon, so he won't be fresh out of medical school and the UNSC will be begging him to enlist. He can make enough money staying in LA, I say – and once I'm out of this shithole, I'm going back to him and he promised we'd get married," A smirk came to the redhead's lips.

"Marriage," Renee sounded out the word thoughtfully, "You never struck me as the home-maker type."

"If I get out of here alive, once I get home back to Earth, I'll never want to leave!" Amy chuckled, walking out of her room, "Where are you heading?"

"Laundry," Renee answered.

"I'll come with you, and then we can both go to the mess hall for some breakfast, because I'm starving."

* * *

John awoke on the cold floor, the blankets half pulled off the bed, draped over him. Judging by the smarting in his chest, he realized that he must have fallen off it sometime in the night, and was in such a deep sleep that it hadn't even woke him. He must have really needed the sleep, because normally he was a very light sleeper. Even the slightest noise or someone talking would wake him, and he would normally jump to his feet in alarm. Spartans couldn't afford to sleep heavily.

He could hear footsteps of people walking by out in the hallway, and the occasional voice. John got up off the floor, and stretched. He stooped, and picked up the pillow and the blankets and threw them on his bed, not feeling like making it.

Studying the bed, it was no mystery as to why he would have fallen off. He was as wide as it was, for Christ's sake. Dr. Halsey had been able to find him well fitting uniforms; and he wished she could have found him a well sized bed, too.

John grabbed a clean pair of uniform out of his locker, slung them under his arm and walked out of his room, composing himself and trying to look as wide awake and presentable as possible. Sure, he had slept, but he was still tired.

He went to the showers, had a quick hot shower that made him feel more awake than he really was. He could have stayed in the shower for hours, but water was limited, and just as John was really relishing it, it shut off. He sighed, and walked out of the shower, quickly snatching up a fresh towel and wrapping it around his waist.

As he looked around the room, he realized that no one else was there, which was odd. There were about three-hundred personnel aboard, and the chances that only he would be having a shower at the moment was rare. There were usually about three or four other people, men and women, in the showers, if not more. It must have been a lazy morning.

John quickly dried himself, put on his deodorant, pulled on his clothes, and left. He dropped his dirty clothes in one of the laundry chutes, and then listened to what was commanding him next, his stomach. He hadn't eaten since Capricornia, where he had wolfed down an energy bar on a short break out on the field. So he double-timed it to the mess-hall, which was bustling with marines and officers alike.

He waited in line, and when it was turn, he filled his tray. Two cartons of milk, a carton of orange juice, three pieces of toast with jam, scrambled eggs, two sausages, and a little package of dried apple slices.

Renee and Amy, who were already eating their breakfast, spotted John in the crowd. He was at least a head taller and easily more muscular than everyone else in the room, as he headed for a back table with a filled tray in his hands. Amy elbowed Renee, and turned to her friend, beaming.

"I'm going to ask him to come eat with us."

"No don't-" Renee started, but Amy had already bellowed his name across the room.

John stopped and turned in the direction of the voice, and he saw it was the obnoxious redheaded Private from yesterday yelling to him.

"Come sit with us!" she called.

He furrowed his brows in sudden contemplation, looked back at his lonely back table in the corner where he usually sat, and then back at Amy and Renee's table, which was far from empty. And there was a spot vacant just for him.

He walked over and rigidly sat down at the table, across from the two Privates. Renee glanced at him momentarily before looking down and picking at her toast. Amy had almost a devious smile on her face.

"Good morning, sir!" she said to him.

"Morning," John replied politely, and he looked to Renee, "How are you doing, Private Kilburn?"

Renee quickly choked out a response, making brief eye contact with him:

"Better, thank you - I can manage walking, sir."

"Good to see you're improving."

"Somebody's hungry this morning," Amy announced, looking in awe at John's tray.

John nodded as he picked up a piece of toast – and didn't seem keen on saying anything. There was silence for a little bit as they all ate, but of course, Amy couldn't be quiet for long.

"How was your sleep?" Amy asked the Spartan, taking a drink of milk.

"Could've been better, Private," he remarked with a shrug, "I rarely sleep well."

"You can ditch the Private stuff, if you want. Call me Amy."

"It's standard protocol."

"Look around, we're all dressed in casual uniform, we're chillin' in Slipspace. When we're not out on the field, feel free to call us by our names," Amy egged him on, "It's a lot more personal than that Private stuff."

"If you're certain; Amy; Renee," John tried out their names, his voice monotone.

Amy glanced to Renee, who kept her eyes to the table and was eating her food in silence. She elbowed her in the side without thinking – and Renee grimaced.

"I've got a fractured rib for Christ's sake!" She sounded irritated, "You elbowing me isn't going to make it any better!"

Amy laughed, "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting. Well at least I got you talking, I don't think I've ever heard you so quiet."

"I'm eating my breakfast," Renee rested her head on her hand, "What do you want me to do, get up and give a speech?"

John took a moment to study her. There was color to her cheeks – as there often was. Her hair, which reached the limit of military-length for women at just below her chin, looked as if she'd just crawled from bed. She kept her head lowered and her eyes glued to her food, which she was now pushing around her plate with her fork.

"Is there something wrong, Renee?" John said her name for the first time, and it felt odd on his tongue. It didn't feel right to be calling someone by their first name. He only called his Spartans by their first names, and never anyone else.

She looked up at him, looking a bit startled now, but she quickly composed herself, putting a small smile on her lips.

"I'm fine, sir," she nodded, "Why?"

"You just look uncomfortable, that's all."

After that, silence filled their small area of the table once again. John was coming close to finishing his breakfast, he only had one carton of milk and the apples left. He tore open the package of apple slices, and threw one in his mouth, looking around the room. He spotted Troy Fisher, who was sitting at a table not too far away with several other higher-ranking marines. Troy glanced his way for a moment, and gave him a challenging, puzzled look, but then went back to his breakfast.

John raised his eyebrow in confusion, but looked back to his breakfast as well. He chugged the milk, and then he was full. He had a few apple slices left, so he offered them to Amy and Renee, who had finished their breakfast.

"Want one?" he asked. John was really unsure in this setting, for this was the most casual and down-to-earth breakfast he had ever had. He was sitting with a table full of marines, was having conversations he normally didn't have, and was calling Amy and Renee by their first names. Offering the apples did seem like a friendly and normal thing to do.

"Are they good?" Amy asked, looking at the dried fruits unsurely.

"Yes," John replied with a curt nod.

"Oh, sure then," Amy said with a shrug.

John held the bag out to Renee. She looked hesitant, but took the last one.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

John nodded, then threw the bag onto the tray with the rest of the garbage and stood, "I can take yours, too," he offered, gesturing towards Amy and Renee's trays.

"Alright," Amy replied, and both she and Renee handed him their trays. He stacked them up and strode off through the crowd to dispose of them.

Amy went to elbow Renee, but stopped herself when she remembered her injury.

"Aren't I the best?" she grinned, "I got John to sit with us. You weren't saying much to him, but then again, he wasn't saying too much either. You make a good pair. You'd be one of those silent, shy couples who speak intellectually and consider holding hands a big process."

"You are so weird," Renee gave her friend a bizarre look; "You should have wrote creepy romance novels instead of joining the UNSC."

Amy laughed, and pointed a finger at Renee's little nose.

"You're just criticizing my description, but did I hear any denials? No," She beamed, "You've got the hots for John-117."

"He's a respectable soldier."

"I'm getting somewhere; you're admitting tiny little details!" Amy squirmed, clapping her hands together, "You think he's respectable, he's more than just _respectable_, dear. He's an intrapersonal good-looking Spartan who needs a girl just like you to make him feel loved."

"Whatever you want to think," Renee sighed, and spotted John winding his way through people back to their table. Good, Amy would forget about her, and start blabbing on to John. Amy did have a point, John wasn't _that_ talkative. It was almost if he wasn't fluent in practical conversations.

"So, John," Amy said with a deep sigh, folding her hands on the table as he sat down, "Ever been with anyone?"

John raised an eyebrow, his face contorting into one of confusion.

"I don't understand."

"Have you dated anyone?" Amy reworded her sentence, although seem surprised that she had to. Renee shook her head in embarrassment. Sometimes she just wanted to strangle her friend.

"Dated?" John repeated the word, "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean, Amy.I am a Spartan; I'm not the best at having what you would consider 'normal' conversations."

"Have you ever fallen in love, then?" Amy asked.

"No," John replied flatly. He almost sounded like he didn't know what she meant by that, either. Renee glanced to Amy, and could read her face – she was surprised by his answer. In a way, Renee was too – it made her wonder if the rumors she'd heard about the Spartans from other marines were true. Rumors of them being stolen from their parents when they were just children and being forced to live strict military lives and nothing else.

"Oh," Amy said after a beat, trying to act indifferent by his answer. She looked to Renee, "There's your answer."

Before Renee could defend herself, the flashing amber alarms alongside the wall lit up, filling the room with beeping. John shot to his feet, and Renee and Amy jumped in surprise.

Captain Thomsen's voice came over the loudspeaker.

"_All personnel to battle stations, I repeat all personnel to battle stations. This is not a drill. Will the Master Chief please report to the bridge immediately._"

John looked to Renee and Amy, who looked panicked, along with the other marines. Around them, the room became chaotic as the marines all began to rush to get suited up.

"I have to go," he said, and then, without any further hesitant he sprinted out of the mess-hall and to the armory, his heart pounding in his ears. He stripped off his clothes, and got into his MJOLNIR armor as quickly as possible with the help of two technicians. Grabbing an assault rifle and several ammo clips to put in his utility belt, he double-timed it to the bridge.

When he arrived, he realized that the _Hercules _was no longer in Slipspace. Thomsen and Dr. Halsey were there, along with several of the bridge personnel, who were hastily working the control panels.

Dr. Halsey looked pale, and she didn't speak.

"A Covenant assault carrier and its whole fleet somehow followed us into Slipspace," Thomsen said, looking worried, "We thought we covered our tracks, and we exited in hope of misleading them, as our destination is only 50,000 light years from Earth's solar system," he turned to the ship's A.I, a female named Keira, "Are you getting any readings?"

Keira folded her arms, and closed her eyes, her holographic shape shimmering for a moment.

"Yes, I am tapping into their battle net as we speak," she answered quickly, "Just let me skim the most recent information… yes, just what I thought. They were on the other side of Capricornia when they received signals of our Slipspace rupture. They followed us… they still are following us, currently one light-year behind us in the Slipspace void. The assault carrier is called _The Domination_… captained by Sangheili M'to 'Malnoonee, Special Ops. The main cruiser accompanying it, _The Redemption_, is captained by Rtas 'Vadumee, Zealot. Lucky I picked up their signals, we'll be ready for them hopefully by the time they exit Slipspace."

"How many drop ships are there?" Dr. Halsey asked, slouched over a desk, rubbing her temples.

"Ten… twenty… twenty two, to be exact, ma'am," Keira replied, "We're in for quite a battle. I expect they will try and invade us by attaching to our escape pods, in attempt to wipe out the marines inside, while _The Domination _and _The Redemption_ will engage in ship-to-ship combat. Would you like me to charge up the MAC gun?"

"Yes," Thomsen answered, "And the archer missiles. We're going to need every last resource, even the nuclear warheads if it comes down to it."

"How much time until they exit Slipspace, Keira?" Dr. Halsey asked, falling into a chair and closing her eyes, looking despaired.

"Considering they are considerably faster than we are, being able to travel light years in hours, as the typical Halcyon class cruiser travels approximately 2.1 light-years per day, it's harder to calculate. Based on previous data archived by other Halcyon cruisers during encounters with assault carriers during Slipspace, I can calculate an average; my best estimate is ten minutes, forty-three seconds and counting."

John felt his heart skip a beat. Just when he was starting to relax, _this _had to happen. Thomsen sighed, and turned to the ship's loudspeaker. He held down the button.

"Here's the scoop, marines," he said, "A Covenant assault carrier and its whole goddamned fleet managed to follow us in our Slipspace jump. We've exited Slipspace in hopes to steer them away from our original destination. Now, we're going to be engaged in a ship-to-ship battle, and not to mention they have drop-ships, so watch those escape pods. We have about ten minutes until they exit Slipspace, and you all know what to do. Good luck."

He let off the button, and sighed. He turned to Master Chief.

"You know what we need you to do, 117." He said.

"Sir," John saluted, and he turned and ran from the bridge.

In the docking bay Troy and several other Junior and Senior Lieutenan

* * *

ts and officers were trying their best to control the rising tension as the marines got geared up and gathered their share of weapons and ammo. Troy gave up and helped an officer hand out assault rifles and pistols to the marines as they filed by.

Several marines, designated this time to pilot the Longswords, skipped the weapons and ran straight to their star fighters.

Renee looked to Amy, as they were waiting in line to receive their weapons.

"This is chaos," she said, "They told us we'd be relaxing for a couple weeks, instead we end up exiting slip space to engage to a ship-to-ship and hand-to-hand battle with the bloody Covenant, some relaxation that is. We aren't even fully prepared."

"Well, we're fighting a war," Amy sighed, "You honestly expected to make it through two weeks without getting into some conflict with the alien bastards?"

She and Renee picked up two grenades each out of the supply boxes, slipping them into their utility belts, and ran a check on their helmets' intercoms.

"Well we've got John aboard," Renee smiled slightly, "We probably won't have as many causalities."

"It's not the aliens I'm worried about. We can kick their asses. It's that damned assault carrier. Plasma torpedoes, that's why we're losing this war, ship-to-ship battle. If they blow us up, I hope it's quick, that's all I can say."

"Awfully morbid, aren't you?" Renee raised her eyebrow.

"Preparing myself for the possible, that's all," Amy smiled grimly.

Renee looked sympathetically at her friend, then turned around as she reached her turn to receive her weapon. An officer handed her and Amy their M6D pistols, and then she moved down the line, to Troy.

Troy handed Amy her assault rifle, then Renee's. As Renee went to take it, Troy didn't let go for a moment. He looked at her, then at Amy.

"Good luck, both of you," he said, "Don't get yourselves killed, hm?"

"We're not planning on it," Amy said sharply, still being sore to him.

Renee smiled slightly at Troy.

"Good luck yourself, sir," she said, and then she moved on, taking a couple clips of ammo from the box. Just as she was doing this, the whole ship shook, and the lights blinked. Renee stumbled and she and Amy had to catch themselves on the boxes of ammo.

It was silent for a moment, and everyone looked around, until Troy broke the silence.

"They're here."


	6. Infiltration

**Chapter Five**

**[March 9th, 2525 – Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **_**– Space]**

Dr. Halsey and Thomsen stood on the bridge, watching as the giant carrier and its entire fleet exited Slipspace with a bright flash. They slowed from a light speed to a lazy glide in the fraction of a second. Keira, whose body flashed dark purple for a moment, put her hands on her hips, observing them through the glass.

"Give them a moment," she said, "They're currently deciding on battle tactics… wait, second that, they're sending their boarding craft our way."

"Fire the MLA auto cannons," Thomsen ordered, "Try and take out as many of them as you can before they can reach our escape pods."

"Commencing fire," Keira said, and several of the _Hercules_ front MLA's came to life, and she, Thomsen and Dr. Halsey watched as it caught a couple of boarding craft, instantly sending them exploding into a ball of fire with a few rounds, the ship's pieces coming apart fast at first, then slowing to a lazy drift in the vacuum.

"That's two, I'm activating the guns further down the ship, to try and eliminate a few more," Keira said, "To save our marines a little grief. Of course, some of them will board…" and then she turned on her holographic panel to peer curiously at _The Domination_, which was just almost floating there in space, it's smaller counterpart _The Redemption_, trailing along its side like a puppy. She folded her arms, "That's odd, they aren't making any sudden attacks, well I suppose that's for the better at the moment. However, if they're waiting around, thinking they can wipe us out from the inside, they'll be disappointed. We've got a Spartan."

"Wait a few minutes," Thomsen said, "And then we'll make the first move. Show them we're not giving up easily. On my signal, fire the MAC gun at _The Redemption_, the poor little fellow trailing along behind the big bastard."

"I don't mean to question your actions sir," Keira turned to him, "But that would be engaging the fight, throwing the first punch, so to speak. That assault carrier isn't to be underestimated."

"Neither am I," Thomsen said with a smirk, adjusting his hat. He glanced at Dr. Halsey, who slightly returned it, "Needn't worry, the hull like ours can take at least five plasma torpedoes before we have to worry about any real crippling damage. I've got this all planned out. This is one battle we're going to win."

* * *

Onboard _The Domination_, Ship Master M'to 'Malnoonee sat in his chair on the bridge, watching the scene through the various video screens throughout the room, which provided different angle shots of the _Hercules_.

The Elite, donning silver armor, rested his elongated head on his hand, chuckling amusingly to himself, watching as his deployed boarding craft cleverly darted out of the way of the guns, heading for the underbelly of the cruiser, to attach to its escape pod routes.

They had only managed to shoot down two boarding craft, which wasn't bad for Humans, but it was a common average. 'Malnoonee preferred to not even bother sending in his troops via the escape pods, he usually just pummeled his enemy with the plasma torpedoes until it was destroyed.

But, this was a special mission. He sent in his troops this time, not just to kill, but to be his eyes. To answer the rumor that had surfaced from his Covenant survivors he pulled from Capricornia before he glassed the planet.

Suddenly, the commander of _The Redemption_, Rtas 'Vadumee came up on the main screen, interrupting 'Malnoonee's observation of the unfolding scene.

"'Vadumee, what is it now?" 'Malnoonee snapped in his Sangheili tongue, clicking his mandibles in irritation, "I was in the middle of watching our troops descending on our enemy."

"My apologies, Ship Master," 'Vadumee said, folding his arms across his chest, "I was just wondering, you hadn't made it entirely clear as to what you're doing…"

"I've sent in our troops," 'Malnoonee shot back, "To do a bit of confirming for me, and kill some humans while they're there."

"The rumor of the Spartan?" 'Vadumee picked up quickly.

"Yes," 'Malnoonee replied, drumming his long fingers on the arm of his chair, "And if it's confirmed, I have K'tao 'Kolsamee who's going to do a little mission for me, to say the least."

"'Kolsamee?" 'Vadumee said aloud thoughtfully, "One of the Special Operations… Stealth, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Hmm," 'Malnoonee narrowed his eyes, nodding, "If this all goes the way I've planned, and the rumor is indeed confirmed, 'Kolsamee is instructed to stay aboard that cruiser and gather as much information as possible about this Spartan."

'Vadumee looked disappointed, yet interested in 'Malnoonee's idea.

"You mean, we're not going to engage in battle?" 'Vadumee tilted his head.

"No," 'Malnoonee leaned back in his chair, "Once the rumor is confirmed, whether true or false, I've instructed whoever's surviving to leave, and if it's a positive outcome, for 'Kolsamee to remain onboard."

"Very well, then," 'Vadumee replied, "I'll be waiting for your signal."

And the image of him flickered and went from the screen.

'Malnoonee looked back at the _Hercules_; it was still around the vessel now. The boarding craft must already have attached and were infiltrating the cruiser at that moment.

Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

John bolted down the hallway as fast as he could, heading towards the escape pods. He already could hear gunfire from both human and Covenant weapons down nearby hallways. He rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the escape pods, and a plasma bolt whizzed right by his head, crackling the air.

There was a small group of Grunts and an Elite jumping out of the escape pod. The rest of them must have dispersed into the ship. John quickly ducked back behind the wall as a few more shots of plasma sizzled through the air. He heard the high-pitched yowls from the Grunts, and a low, guttural roar from the Elite.

John knew how to easily fix this little clique of aliens. He reached down and pulled a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, waited a second, then let it fly. He heard the clunks as it hit the floor-plates and bounced, and then the surprised yells from his enemies as they realized what it was. Not a second later, a loud explosion rocked the hallway as the grenade detonated, and a Grunt body went flying past him and came to a skid not three feet away, leaving a streak of light blue blood on the floor.

The Spartan whipped around the corner, snatching up his pistol from his utility belt. The hallway was splattered with alien blood. He had successfully killed the Grunts, but the Elite was still standing. Its armor's shields sparked and crackled as they tried to recharge, and the Elite, upon seeing him, backed away, raising its plasma rifle to him. John was quicker than the dazed Elite, however, and he killed it with a well placed bullet to the head.

The alien let out a low rumble, as its knees gave out, and the rest of its body followed as it crumpled to the ground in a bloody heap, dark purple blood oozing out from the shot to its head. John walked over to the body, gave it a good kick to make sure it was dead, and put his pistol back to his belt, and took out his assault rifle again.

He walked past the rest of dead bodies, and as he headed down a side corridor, his HUD blinked with upcoming enemies. This time his ears picked up not only Covenant, but Human words this time. He picked up his speed and ran down the corridor, and rounded a corner, and sure enough, there was a larger group of Covenant, and a good share of marines at the scene, who were crouched behind a few supply boxes as the aliens fired angrily at them.

John spotted Troy Fisher amongst them, who was in the process of shooting at one of the Elites in the group.

"Take their fucking shields down, then someone throw a frag, dammit!" Troy shouted over the gunfire, and then ducked behind the boxes again, and he saw John just about the same time the Elite did.

John was surprised to see it almost get _excited_ at his appearance. It pointed a finger at him.

"_Wort, wort, wort_!" It yowled, and suddenly all the Grunts and the other Elites turned to look at him. For a moment, gunfire on both sides stopped. Troy looked at the Elites and then back at John, a bewildered look on his face.

"What the hell!" Troy said, and then a Marine saw his chance, and pulled a pin on a grenade and threw it into the group of aliens. John and everyone else ducked as it exploded. Screams of pain from the Grunts and Elites filled the air as shrapnel tore through their skin.

The Grunts were killed instantly, and an Elite whose shields hadn't been full when the grenade detonated, lay on the ground twitching and writhing in pain, thick purple blood bubbling from its mouth.

"Open fire marines!" Troy shouted, and they all shot at the two remaining Elites, who didn't seem to care they were there. They turned away from them, and seemed to be trying to frantically talk into their headsets, but were taken down in a spray of bullets.

It grew quiet as the last Elite fell dead, except for the one Elite who had been caught in the grenade blast – it was still groaning softly to itself. Troy got to his feet, approaching it as it lay on the floor, its body in spasms. He aimed at it with his assault rifle.

"Take this you son of a…"

John, who hadn't been beside him second ago, quickly put his hand on the LT's shoulder. Troy turned and looked into his mirrored visor quizzically.

"Hold your fire," John said quietly, walking past him and stopping at the writhing Elite. He gazed down on the injured alien. Blood spurted from several shrapnel wounds dotted across its body, and was struggling to keep from choking on its own blood. It looked up at him with wide eyes. I mandibles fell open, and it weakly raised its hand to its helmet, and rasped out a jumble of words spoken its alien tongue.

John quickly silenced it by shooting it in the head.

* * *

'Malnoonee sat in his chair in the bridge, when suddenly; a voice came over the speaker. It was one of his Elites, from onboard the _Hercules_. Before there were words, he heard him gasping for air.

"The Spartan is on board," the raspy voice said, "the Spartan is here…"

And then a loud gunshot came through the Elite's headset, causing 'Malnoonee to startle. Then he lost the signal. He sat there for a few seconds, realizing the value of the information he had just received; the rumors were not just rumors anymore. It was true, then. One of the Humans' Spartan soldiers was indeed aboard that ship.

'Malnoonee felt overwhelmed, and he clenched his fists – not having to guess that it was the Spartan who had just killed the messenger.

* * *

Slowly and cautiously, the marines came out from behind their cover, as John stood over the dead body of the Elite. Troy led the nervous pack with an air of confidence as he came up behind the Spartan. He walked up beside him, staring down at the dead alien.

"What was that bastard saying?" Troy said with a frown, giving the body a kick, "Probably praying to not go to hell, the ugly squid-headed piece of shit."

John looked down at Troy, and he didn't have to guess he was angry – an emotion that seemed frequent for the hot-headed Lieutenant.

"There's more of those ugly squid-headed piece of shits," John quoted Troy wryly, "Where that one came from. Let's get a focus on the mission, Lieutenant. We can curse them later when we're all out of this situation."

"Yeah, yeah," Troy answered miserably.

John's HUD suddenly blinked as enemies suddenly came into the radar. He raised his weapon, staring ahead at a side hallway. Troy went to move past him, but John whipped out his arm, stopping him.

"There's more of them on their way," John said quietly, "Quick, all of you, up against the wall. When they arrive, we can surprise them and take most of them out while they're not suspecting it."

"I'm the Lieutenant, here, Master Chief," Troy snarled, shoving his arm out of the way, looking right into his visor, "You may be a Spartan, but I'm a Lieutenant and you're a Master Chief Petty Officer, and I don't need you telling me how the hell to handle this goddamn situation."

John was taken aback by Troy's sudden retort, but wasn't about to let it get to him. A few replies he could use in response to Troy's rudeness whizzed through John's head, but he wasn't in the mood for getting into an argument, nor was it the time. He simply nodded.

"We're gonna meet them face to face," Troy gave the new orders, "When they come around the hallway we'll…"

John stopped listening as he watched his HUD. The Covenant would be around the corner in two… one…

Several shots of plasma seared through the air, past Troy's head. He ducked, cursing in surprise, and rolled onto his stomach, opening fire on the aliens. John felt his impatience rise, doing what Troy told them to do could get them all killed.

He ran down the hallway, right in Troy's line of fire – he heard Troy curse as he stopped firing to avoid shooting John:

"Jesus Christ Spartan, what the fuck are you doing!"

John didn't answer him as he opened fire on the aliens as he approached the unsuspecting group. The Grunts screamed and fell as the bullets peppered their bodies. There was only one Elite with them, and it roared in anger when he saw John assassinate his Grunt counterparts.

It raised its plasma rifle, meanwhile John was firing at its head, neck and chest. The Elite's shields sparked, but it shot at John persistently, and he had to fall to the floor to avoid several smoldering shots of plasma. Some of them streaked dangerously close, sending the temperature control within his armor haywire. As he landed on the floor, John saw the solution. By a dead Grunt's body, there was a plasma grenade. He snatched it up, activated it, and threw the shining blue grenade, sticking it right to the Elite's head.

The Elite roared in fury, quickly realizing its death was imminent. John scrambled to his feet and backed up as the alien began to charge him, but it didn't get too far. The grenade exploded, sending pieces of the Elite's head flying all over the walls.

John heard Troy and few of the marines make a few noises of disgust, as they peeked out into what had-been a danger zone. Brain matter and purple blood now adorned the walls and John's armor.

Troy was the first to approach John, who was wiping pieces of alien flesh from his chest plates. John wasn't bothered nor really disgusted with being splattered with what had once been an Elite's head. He was long since used to it.

Troy was trying to look angry, but disgust was winning his face over. John held out one hand, which was smeared with alien blood.

"Want some, Lieutenant?" he asked, smirking wryly behind his visor.

"No thanks."

* * *

At the other escape pods, Renee and Amy, along with several other marines, were trying their best to kill as many Covenant as possible as they poured out of their boarding craft. The Grunts were the easiest to kill, but it was hard to get a good shot at them, with the Elites successfully pinning them down behind their cover.

Renee and Amy were crouched behind a supply box, and the rest of the marines were scattered along the hallway, trying to find cover in every nook and cranny possible. The hallway was sizzling as a constant spray of plasma flew past them. Every once and a while, someone was able to duck out and get a few shots in, and even if they were able to get an Elite's shields down, it would be recharged by the next time they were able to get another shot.

"Damn these things!" Amy shouted, and she looked to Renee, who momentarily peeked out from behind the storage box, only to duck behind a second later. They felt the box's temperature take a considerable jump as it was pummeled with searing plasma. Renee raised her eyebrow, looking bewildered.

"We can't even get in a single shot!"

"Care to go tackling Elites now?" Amy asked jokingly.

"Oh yes," Renee said sarcastically, "Might lose a couple limbs in the process, but sure. What one do you want me to charge at? The big red guy or the blue buddy?"

Amy smiled at her friend sympathetically, enjoying their mid-battle humor; she stood up and opened fire momentarily at the aliens, but she ducked down a second later to avoid the suppressing Covenant fire.

"Got a Grunt!" she said with a proud sigh, "One less alien bastard to worry about."

Renee rolled her eyes desperately.

"I wish it would make a difference."

"Where the hell's Spartan when we damn well need him?" Amy complained, "I say, John better get his ass right here right now and help us before we're fried!"

Renee jumped up and shot at a blue Elite, who roared and returned fire. She ducked back behind the supply box as more plasma hit the other side.

"They're going to melt the friggin' box on us, for Christ's sake!" Amy cried, "These bastards are really starting to piss me off!"

Amy picked a grenade off her belt and held it out, exchanging glances with Renee.

"It's risky… but…" Amy started, and they finished the sentence together:

"Throw it."

Amy pulled the pin and biffed the grenade over the box. It flew past the Elites, but bounced off a wall and came rolling back, right in amongst their feet.

"Nice throw," Renee remarked, almost drowned out by the startled cry of the Elites. As they ducked back behind the box, the grenade detonated. Screams of pain filled the air. Renee set her assault rifle down on the ground, and pulled out her pistol.

"I'll get the rest; cover me!"

She rolled out behind the box onto her stomach, ignoring the smarting in her ribs, and saw one Elite was wearily left standing, wobbling unsurely on its feet and dripping blood. It was disoriented, but saw Renee, let out a growl of frustration, and took a shaky step towards her, raising its weapon, but she was already aimed, and fired right at its head. The last of its shields were dropped and the bullet penetrated its head, killing it.

With a gurgle, the Elite dropped to the floor like a dead weight.

Renee let out a sigh, lowered her weapon, and rolled over to her back. Amy and the rest of the marines emerged from their cover, relief painted across their features. Amy walked over to her friend, and offered a hand. Renee took it, and Amy helped her up off the floor.

"Good job," Amy smiled, handing her the assault rifle.

"You weren't too bad yourself," Renee nodded approvingly, and she looked around to the rest of the marines, "Split up and check the surrounding hallways and secure the perimeter. If you find any Covenant, well you know what our job is." The marines nodded and divided themselves in pairs of three or four and went down separate hallways. Amy, of course, walked up to Renee.

"Jeez, you sure you're not a Lieutenant?" Amy gave her a wry smile, "I said to myself, think like Troy," Renee shrugged, as she and Amy started off down a narrow hallway, "When he's not being a dick, he leads."

"Then what are you doing being a Private?"

"I'm content with my rank," Renee answered, wiping some sweat off her brow, "Besides; higher ranks mostly spawn stuck-up bipolar crackpots, who get so absorbed with their little rank patched to their arm, they think they are of ultimate importance and act like they're the rooster and the rest of us are common barnyard chickens. Troy being a perfect example."

What happened next was a blur. An Elite suddenly came around the corner, almost walking right into Amy. It had faster reflexes than she did, and let out a roar, knocking Amy across the face with its elbow so hard, it knocked her helmet off.

Renee froze, watching as her friend flew back, fell, and skidded along the floor. She screamed her name, her voice coming out high-pitched and shaky, staring in horror at her friend's still body. She whipped around and saw the Elite standing in the middle of the hallway, looking right at her, its yellow eyes burning with hatred.

This Elite was huge, it had to crouch to not hit its head on the ceiling and seemed as wide as the entire hallway. Its upper arms were the size of her body was around. This Elite was wearing black armor, and something about its eyes frightened Renee. They seemed to glow on the black backdrop of its dark leathery skin and shining black armor.

Renee went to raise her weapon, but her arm wouldn't move. She stared at the Elite's unblinking eyes, which seemed to burn right through her. Saliva pooled around its bottom mandibles and dropped to the floor. It just stared at her, its shoulders heaving with each rattling breath.

The realization of the situation hit her, and for the first time, real fear tore through her. She was alone; and she knew that she couldn't fight this Elite by herself. Not one this big. She looked at its huge arms, shuddering as she realized those arms could easily break her in two.

"Shit," she whispered, her voice shaking, and she took a step backwards. The Elite took a step forwards, not taking its eyes off her. She doubted it could understand her, but she started talking anyway, her voice small, "Please… don't kill me… please…"

_Raise your weapon!_ A voice in her head was screaming; _Raise your weapon! Pull the trigger!_

The Elite took another step towards her, and Renee whipped her assault rifle up to aim, but in a split second with a swipe of its arm it knocked the weapon out of her hands. She barely heard it as it bounced off the wall and hit the floor. Renee screamed at the top of her lungs, and kept screaming, as she felt its huge hand close around her throat.

She felt her body slam up against the wall, and the grip tightened on her throat, and she gasped, feeling her airway being squeezed shut. It cut off her scream – and her supply of oxygen. She couldn't breathe. Frantically, she grabbed and pried at its fingers to no avail, looking into its eyes which now seemed to be dancing with amusement.

Renee felt a great pressure building in her head and her chest. One thought filled her mind. This Elite was strangling her.

She opened her mouth, but no noise came out, no oxygen travelled to her lungs. She felt lightheaded, and the image of its ugly face started to blur as white spots danced in her vision. _I__'__m dying_, she thought. After that one thought, her brain seemed to cloud, her thoughts didn't come, she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything.

In her head, she heard footsteps, they sounded like footsteps… she heard yelling… or was it her heart? Her heartbeats were suddenly so loud…

Suddenly, she felt the hand release her neck, but everything went black. She never felt the impact of her body hitting the floor.

* * *

John, Troy and the marines had been walking up the hallway when they first heard an earsplitting scream that seemed to pierce the air. Not a second passed and another echoed through the hallways, a frightened, high-pitched scream; a woman's scream.

John and Troy seemed to act at the same time. They bolted down the hallway, and heard the scream again, but it seemed to cut off halfway through. As they ran, John heard Troy curse under his breath. John picked up speed, his heart pounding in his ears. He was faster than Troy and the rest of the marines.

It took him seconds to reach the scene, and as he drew nearer, he could hear a strange sound, a gasping, choking sound. He rounded the corner of the corridor, and saw what he had been dreading.

Amy was lying halfway down the hallway, unmoving. Her helmet had been knocked off and her red hair had fallen over her face; her eyes were closed. Less than three feet away, a huge Elite had Renee pinned to the wall, its hand closed around her throat. Her face was a reddish-purple, and her body hung like a limp rag doll, her eyes darting around but not seeing anything. She was being strangled.

"HEY!" John yelled, and the Elite whipped around, and soon as it saw him, dropped Renee, and ran. John fired a few shots after it, but it darted around the corner and disappeared.

His heart was pounding in his ears, and he darted over to Renee's side, crouching beside her. He heard Troy and the rest of the marines just arriving on the scene.

"Oh my god," he heard Troy whisper. He looked over his shoulder, and saw the marines going over to Amy. She stirred when they shook her, and he felt a little relief. But Renee…

"Renee," John spoke her name, touching her shoulder lightly. She was unconscious. Troy ran to his side, and fell to the floor, staring at Renee.

"Please tell me she's not…" Troy trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

John remained calm as he pressed two fingers to her neck to feel a pulse. Either it was his armor, or she didn't have one.

Now he panicked.

He threw off his helmet, ignoring the gasp from Troy as he made the same realization he had moments before, and pressed his ear to her chest.

"She's not breathing," John announced.

He heard Amy from behind him, who must have woken up.

"Oh no!" her voice sounded on the verge of breaking down.

John's brain whizzed into action, back to his life-saving course. She had a fractured rib, and CPR wouldn't be a good idea, especially with how strong he was. The other option came to him, mouth to mouth resuscitation.

He pinched her nose, just like they were trained to do, and put his mouth over hers, breathing air into her lungs. He drew back, and got no response. He tried again, and then desperately, as gently as possible, tried CPR.

Amy was still sitting on the floor, several marines surrounding her. Her eyes were welling up with tears, and she was chewing on her fingernails. She had a gash on her forehead, and blood was running down one side of her face. For once, she was silent.

Troy, too, was silent as he sat beside John, staring at him as he tried to recusitate Renee. The color had left his face and his jaw was tightly clenched.

Just as John was leaning in to try mouth-to-mouth again, Renee's eyes shot open, and she gasped in a breath of air. Troy sighed in relief, muttering a "Thank God" beneath his breath. Renee looked up at John, appearing disoriented, her chest heaving as she gasped for big breaths as he leaned back from her face

John put an arm under her shoulders, lifting her head up slightly from the ground.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

Renee nodded, numbly. She raised a hand weakly to her throat, and looked around the room, she saw Amy, whose nose was red. She took notice of the trickle of blood running down her face. Meeting Troy's eyes next, Renee was surprised to see they were welling up with tears, but he blinked furiously, looked away from her and got to his feet, walking over to Amy and the rest of the marines, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Renee looked back to John.

"You saved my life, sir," she made the connection. Her voice sounded weak, "Thank you."

"It is part of my job," John replied quietly, "You don't have to thank me."

"But I do," Renee smiled slightly, and she put a hand on his cold shoulder-plate, "Thank you, John."

John stiffened at this uncommon gesture, glancing down at her small hand resting on his shoulder-plate. Clearing his throat, he picked his helmet up off the floor, and stood, offering his hand to Renee. She took it, and he easily pulled her to her feet.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Amy was there to hug her, "You scared the shit out of me."

Renee laughed slightly,

"Good to see you're okay too."

As she was hugging her friend, she saw Troy, who was leaning against the wall. He made brief eye contact with her as she broke the hug with Amy and took a step towards him before stopping hesitantly.

"Good, you're alive," Troy said indifferently, stepping away from the wall, "I would have hated to lose another marine."

Renee was at a loss for words, somewhat taken aback by Troy's rudeness. A marine, she was just a marine now? No, he wouldn't acknowledge her as a friend, she shouldn't have expected it. It might have made him look like he had a heart.

But, she had seen the tears in his eyes moments before, there was no doubt about that.

Glancing from Amy back to Troy, she saw his gaze was permanently directed at the floor; he wouldn't meet her eyes. He knew she'd seen his tears, and he couldn't bear to meet her challenging gaze.

Renee sighed, looking over her shoulder to John, who was picking his assault rifle off the floor. He still held his helmet in his hand. Approaching him calmly, Renee watched him as he sensed her coming - he paused from putting on his helmet. He looked from her, then to Amy, and pointed to her forehead.

"You should get that seen to," he said simply, "You might have a concussion."

"It's just a little scrape," Amy shrugged, "I've had worse."

Renee was half suspecting for Amy to mention something humorous, but it seemed everyone was bummed from the incident.

"Did you kill that Elite?" Renee asked John.

"No. It got away," John said, narrowing his eyes, "I would have chased him down, but I figured your condition was more important."

"It was the biggest Elite I've ever seen," she said, rubbing her neck. She shuddered at the faint memory of its cold grip on her throat, "I never knew they could be that big."

"They're a different rank of Elite," John explained, "I've only seen a few of them. They're a stealth class, they have invisibility cloaking."

"How come he didn't use it then?" Amy spoke up, "That fucker was far from invisible when he came around the corner and hit me, let me tell you that!"

"I don't know."

"Find him and kill him before he tries anymore of that bullshit on anyone else."

"I plan on it," John said lowly.

"They're leaving!" Troy suddenly interrupted, and he pointed out one of the windows, in which the escape pods were visible. Everyone turned to look, and sure enough, the boarding craft were all pulling away.

"Good! See ya! Don't come back, you alien bitches!" Amy had her two cents worth to say as usual.

"That's odd," John announced, narrowing his dark eyes, "I don't like it."

* * *

K'tao 'Kolsamee stood inside the dark, cramped compartments of a broom closet. It was uncomfortable; he wasn't able to stand up straight, but rather crouch so his neck and shoulders touched the ceiling.

He tapped his helmet. His signal to _The Domination_ was fading in and out. He growled softly to himself.

That Spartan, he was here; he had interrupted him from strangling that human girl. 'Kolsamee narrowed his yellow eyes, and clenched his fists. If he didn't have orders to stay aboard _The Hercules_, to spy and gather information about this Spartan, he would have killed him and the rest of those marines that had been with him without a second thought.

'Kolsamee looked down at the deactivated energy sword hanging from his waist. He could easily kill the Spartan, find his sleeping quarters and slit his throat in his sleep, but no. 'Malnoonee had instructed him to gather information first.

Finally, the headset cleared, and 'Kolsamee spoke:

"'Malnoonee, are you there?"

"Yes." It was an instant reply.

"I saw the Spartan."

"As I'm aware. I've already told our troops to leave. They're returning to _The_

_Domination _as we speak. You're on your own now, 'Kolsamee. You know what to do."

"Yes, Ship Master. I most certainly do."

* * *

On the bridge, Thomsen, Keira, and Dr. Halsey were observing the scene with utmost interest, as they saw the boarding craft _leaving_. Keira folded her arms on her chest.

"How peculiar, I don't believe I've ever seen the Covenant retreat. Why, not to sound grim, but, they could easily take us over and destroy us without as much as really batting an eye. They overpower us, they know this, but why would they be retreating?"

"They can run, but they chased us all the way from Capricornia, made us exit our Slipspace jump, and now they're not even attacking," Thomsen narrowed his eyes, "They're wasting my time. I'm going to spice this game up a bit. Keira, charge the main MAC gun. Fire four shots at that battle cruiser, _The Redemption. _Take it out."

"Are you sure, Captain? After all they…" Keira began, but Thomsen cut her off.

"You heard me."

* * *

Rtas 'Vadumee was sitting aboard _The Redemption_, when suddenly he was thrown out of his chair when a huge tremor shook the entire ship. 'Vadumee cursed in Sangheili, and pulled himself to his feet, and whipped around to face several other Elites that had been in the room with them.

"Assessment; what the hell is going on?" 'Vadumee yelled.

The ship was shaken again violently, and the lights flickered. The ship was plunged into a few terrifying seconds of blackness – and when the lights came back on, the whole one side of the wall of the bridge had fallen loose, and an electrical fire was burning down the hallway.

"The _Hercules_, it's attacking us, sir!" one of the Elites shouted.

"Damn them!" 'Vadumee said, his head was whizzing, "Give me the assessment!"

"Fires in multiple locations, including the engines," another Elite replied, having just run into the bridge.

"Abandon ship," he ordered, "Take the boarding craft and get to _The Domination_, immediately!"

"But, sir…"

"Go!" 'Vadumee bellowed, slamming his fist against the control panels.

The Elites looked hesitant, but they turned and bolted down the hallway. 'Vadumee turned to the control panel, and with a quick survey, he realized the ship couldn't take much more. There were multiple fires, extreme damage – and only on the second fire from the Human's MAC gun.

"Kill me," 'Vadumee growled beneath his breath, "Come on, you Human scum; blow me into oblivion. Let's have another shot!"

"'Vadumee!" A voice came through his headset. It was 'Malnoonee.

"Ship Master," 'Vadumee replied, "The Humans, they're…"

"I know," 'Malnoonee snapped, "Abandon your ship! That goes for you, as well. You're a fine leader, brother – deserving a death much more heroic than this! Your hands are destined to be stained with more Human blood! This destruction of your ship is a cause for you to seek your revenge – you thirst for it! Rejoice my brother - we need you with us on our path to the Great Journey."

"Fine," 'Vadumee snarled, and he shut down the control panels, and ran from the bridge, and down the long hallway, dodging patches of fire that had started out of the walls, and shoving his way past fallen wall panels.

The ship shook again as it was hit with another impact, and 'Vadumee was thrown against the wall, hitting his head quite hard, but he pushed the pain aside and kept running.

When he finally reached a boarding ship, he jumped into it, turned it on, and flew out though the hangar bay, into space. He looked behind him momentarily, to see the hangar bay envelope into flames as the ship was hit once again. He could only watch as _The Redemption__'__s_ hull collapsed inwards and the ship disintegrated into a sickly white explosion, which was strangely silent in the black vacuum.


	7. Aftermath

**Chapter Six**

**[March 9, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **_**– Space] **

Thomsen, Dr. Halsey and Keira watched as the battle cruiser exploded. They all held their breath afterwards, instantly looking from the floating debris to the Assault Carrier, which was almost still against the black backdrop of glittering stars.

"Target destroyed," Keira said quietly, "Now it's their move."

Dr. Halsey and Thomsen exchanged glances and they both glowered down at the A.I. Keira folded her arms, narrowing her eyes, dismissing their glares by turning her back.

"I'm not being pessimistic, if that's what you're thinking," she snorted, "It's just that it's a great possibility that their next move could be…" she trailed off, as boarding craft were seen flying up to the underbelly of the Carrier – the survivors from the explosion, "Unexpected," she finished, putting her hand up to her chin, watching the unfolding scene with curiosity.

"What's unexpected?" Dr. Halsey asked, leaning in to the A.I, "I wish I could see what you can, hear what you can. It'd be fascinating… sometimes, although I think the information would be overwhelming."

"Too overwhelming for you, Doctor," Keira retorted, "Besides, you have a body. Be thankful for that. Hmm… why… how confusing… surprising…"

She began mumbling to herself too quickly for anyone to understand as a new wave of information from the Covenant battle net entered her "mind".

"Are they planning an attack?" Thomsen asked, seeming impatient, but the little A.I didn't even look at him, and continued in her self-conversation for a minute or two, until she whipped around on her holographic panel to face the Captain and Dr. Halsey.

"Perhaps your plan wasn't dangerous… it… worked! Or at least I think it did," Keira announced, looking relatively happy, "Surprisingly, you're not going to believe this, I didn't really at first, but they're retreating! They're planning to enter Slipspace in approximately fifteen seconds and counting, not counting the milliseconds of course. If I could touch you, I'd give you a pat on the back, Blake."

Thomsen raised an eyebrow and smirked, upon the A.I calling him by his first name.

"Did I hear you correctly?" he asked, "They're entering Slipspa…"

Suddenly they were all distracted as suddenly the Assault Carrier zoomed out of view, and they all whipped around to try and catch a peek at it.

"Don't get whiplash now," Keira said calmly, "_The Domination_ is looping around, and has calculated to be entering the Slipspace void in… 10… 9… 8…"

"We don't need a countdown, Keira," Thomsen interrupted.

"Sorry," The AI folded her arms on her chest.

_The Domination_ came back into view, moving at a slower speed, and suddenly a white void opened at the bow, and the large bulbous bow of the ship entered the Slipspace void, and the rest of the ship was sucked in like a vacuum. The void closed, and the ship was gone, leaving a shockwave that went through space and shook the _Hercules._

"There you go," Keira announced, "Entered Slipspace and long gone. Now, you two have any ideas as to why? Last time I checked, 'cowardice' doesn't go in the same sentence with Covenant."

"They were testing us," Dr. Halsey declared, her brow furrowed. She turned and dropped into a nearby chair, "That was a test. If they had wanted to destroy us, they easily could have, that's how they're winning this war after all. They sent in their boarding craft, only to leave minutes later… then they allowed us to destroy that cruiser, without even firing a returning shot in our direction. This is odd, but it strangely _makes_ sense, if they were looking for what I think they were looking for," Dr. Halsey got a distant look in her eyes, and was silent for a moment, staring at nothing. She then snapped her fingers, and looked up to Thomsen, "Call John here please."

"John?" Thomsen repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Master Chief," Dr. Halsey replied softly.

"Oh, of course," Thomsen nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

John was there in minutes, a record time. He had run from the other end of the ship, and when he walked into the quiet atmosphere of the bridge, he realized the Covenant had left. As he came up to Thomsen, Dr. Halsey, who was still seated in her chair, and Keira, he saluted.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" John looked to Thomsen.

"The Doctor did, Chief," Thomsen gave a nod towards Dr. Halsey, and John turned to face her, giving her a fresh salute.

"Ma'am?" John asked, straightening to attention. Dr. Halsey looked unusually calm, the creases in her forehead that had been etched there from years of worrying didn't look so visible at the moment.

"At ease, John," she said quietly, "And you can take off your helmet. Our threat is gone. I prefer to see your face anyway."

John relaxed, and let his shoulders round slightly. He reached up, unsurely at first, but removed his helmet, and tucked it beneath his arm. He let out a deep breath, and saw Dr. Halsey smile.

"You look tired," Dr. Halsey declared, "You have darkness under your eyes. Tell me, have you slept?"

John raised his eyebrow ever so slightly. With years of practice, he could control his facial expressions like a puppeteer could their puppet. Every movement was carefully done in order to look professional. He was raising his eyebrow out of confusion. Dr. Halsey had called him here to talk about sleep? He doubted it.

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"Very well?"

"Ye… not really, ma'am," John stopped himself from telling a lie. He mind-as-well tell her the truth, and even if he lied, she would have seen through it anyway.

"It's the bed, isn't it?" Dr. Halsey asked rhetorically, "My apologies, John. I'll see to it you get placed in one of the finer rooms with the bigger beds, and I don't want any objections. Now, onto the real reason I called you here. The Covenant," she folded her hands on her lap, "As you can see, they're gone. They called their boarding craft back, we were able to destroy their battle cruiser, and they just went back into Slipspace… without even firing a single shot."

"Really?" John asked. It was a common reply he didn't normally use. He instantly felt stupid for saying such a thing. He instantly knew why it had slipped out, spending time with Amy and Renee and listening to their conversations.

He watched as Dr. Halsey narrowed her eyes slightly, a little half-smile appearing on her face, but she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she continued as if he hadn't said anything.

"I called you here, not just because we want to know how about what happened onboard, but… I think you are the reason why the Covenant followed us," Dr. Halsey announced, looking kind of proud.

"Me, ma'am?"

"Yes," Dr. Halsey replied, "I mean, they could have easily destroyed this entire ship with a few plasma torpedoes, instead of bothering sending in the boarding craft. The only reason that comes to mind as why they came and left so quickly, was that they were looking for something, that something, or should I say, someone, is you. It makes sense, after all. You're one of the Spartans, and very few Covenant have seen you or your fellow soldiers and lived to tell about it. Someone at Capricornia must have, because I believe they heard news of you being on the planet, and when we left, they followed us to find out."

"Why not just…" John started, but he stopped himself midsentence, "My apologies ma'am."

"You don't need to apologize, John," Dr. Halsey looked slightly confused, "Continue what you were going to say. I'd love to hear your input."

"What would they want with me?"

"Yes, good question," Keira interjected, "The Covenant view our technology as being very primitive. It's interesting as to why they would even be … wait… the suit… I bet they were seeing about your armor, John. Perhaps they're worried that we're going to give all Humans the suits."

"Impossible, I'm afraid," Dr. Halsey answered her, "Although it would be good, not everyone would be of age or have the correct physical features the Spartan program demands. That's why there's so few of them," and she turned to John, "Anyway, whatever the Covenant wanted, I suppose they will be back."

"Yes," Thomsen agreed.

"So keep alert, but don't forget to relax," Dr. Halsey noted to John.

"Ma'am," John saluted, "Will that be all?"

"Yes," Dr. Halsey nodded, "Get out of your armor, and help round up the wounded. We'll be re-entering Slipspace soon, and I'll see to it that you're assigned to your new room by tonight at the latest."

"Yes, ma'am," John replied, "Thank you, ma'am."

* * *

"I don't need to go see anybody!" Amy was protesting, with her hand firmly clapped over the gash on her forehead. The blood had dried and there was a crusty streak of it down the side of her face, but her protesting did little to persuade Renee, who was dragging her down the hallway towards the medical center.

"Yes you do," her friend replied, looking back over her shoulder at her disapprovingly, "You probably need stitches."

"No I don't! I'm fine, it's just a little scrape! I don't need any stitches; it's stopped bleeding already!"

"Stop whining and just accept the truth," Renee scoffed.

"That stupid, split-chinned, squid-headed bastard!" Amy was on a roll, If he hadn't come around the corner and totally wacked me one, I'd be fine!" A thoughtful pause, "At least I wasn't nearly strangled to death."

"I'm probably going to have a bruise on my neck," Renee replied, trusting her friend enough to stop pulling her down the hallway.

"You can say it's a hickey," Amy laughed, nudging her friend in the arm, but Renee narrowed her eyes and glared. Amy tended to have a really obnoxious laugh when she found something particularly funny.

"Not funny at all," Renee said flatly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.

"Troy'd be jealous. You should totally say it was John!" Amy bit back laughter and it came out as a snort, "He practically _kissed_ you today so it'd fit in nicely."

"Jesus, what on earth are you _talking_ about?" Renee demanded, her face contorting into one of confusion.

"He gave you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, have you know," Amy said matter-of-factly, "If it hadn't been scary at the time, I think I might've said something, buut considering you were unconscious and practically dead, I didn't really think about it then. Now, however, I can gush all about it!"

Renee felt her cheeks grow warm, but she kept her face stern.

"You're strange," she declared, "John saved my life, and I thanked him for that. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is a form of revival. It wasn't a kiss! Anyone would've done the same! It just so happened to be him."

"Ooh," Amy narrowed her eyes with a smile, "Hit a nerve there," and she looked ahead of her, and then her smile grew, "Speak of the devil. Look who it is."

John was walking out of an adjacent hallway ahead of them, back to wearing a casual uniform. He turned their way, and Amy waved, and quickly ran up to meet him. Renee sighed and hurried to catch up with her friend – although not too fast, feeling her ribs beginning to smart. She'd need to take another pill soon.

"Hey!" Amy was saying to John, quite casually, "What's up?"

"The ceiling."

Amy guffawed at this.

"I meant, what are you doing?"

"I was just going to…" John began, but Amy cut him off.

"RenRen tells me I should go to the medical center," she blabbed, pointing to the gash on her forehead, "Whaddya think? Should I?"

"Yes. My guess is that you'd need stitches. You're feeling alright, are you? No dizziness or feeling faint?"

"No."

"You should have it seen to just in case. I'll walk you there. Let's go."

They all turned and started walking towards the direction of the medical center, John in-between the two girls. Craning her neck to glance up to him, Renee felt suddenly really small in comparison.

At that moment, John looked down at her.

"How are you feeling, RenRen?" John said, quirking his mouth into a wry smile.

Renee's eyes widened in surprise upon John calling her by her nickname. Troy and Amy were the only ones who used it – and Troy had abandoned the nickname a long time ago, leaving Amy to be its primary user. Amy watched her friend's face contort and she laughed. John smiled fully at this, and Renee noticed he had a small gap between his two front teeth – but other than that, a very nice smile.

"Sorry," John apologized, wiping the smile off his face and it went back to the usual calm expression, "I should have asked before calling you…"

"No it's fine," Renee interjected quickly, "That's what Amy calls me, and what Troy - I mean, Lieutenant Fisher, calls me… well he used to…"

"Do you have a nickname?" John asked Amy.

"Not really," she answered, "Well Troy used to call me Smythy, but that was a while ago. Just call me Amy, it'll do more than fine." She leaned ahead to peek across John's chest to Renee, who was walking with her head down.

"RenRen's all embarrassed!" giggled Amy, nudging John with her arm, before diving into a more lengthy explanation of their childhood nicknames and adventures.

Renee quickened her pace and walked ahead of Amy and John. She didn't like hearing about the past – especially the way things were now. It was no use talking about Troy and remembering how humorous he was, when now he was possibly one of the most impossible people she'd ever met. Feeling suddenly warm in her battle-gear, She reached up and tore off her helmet and slung it under her arm. Pausing thoughtfully, she pivoted to face John and Amy once more. They looked at her curiously.

"You know, I don't even know why I'm walking to the medical center," she shrugged, "I'm not injured – just sore and exhausted and in desperate need of time to myself. I need to get out of my battle gear, take a shower, and then go ponder the fact that I was almost killed today."

"Jesus, what's got you so irritable all of a sudden?" Amy inquired as her friend walked past her and John back the way they'd initially come.

"This day, Amy; this whole lovely fuck-up of a day."

"Private Kilburn!" John suddenly snapped authoritatively, stopping Renee in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder at John, well aware of his higher rank – her features softened slightly.

"Sir?"

"I want you to get a hold of yourself. Accompany your friend to the medical bay; a walk will do you good before you resort to brooding. That's an order."

Renee stared at him for a moment, her expression challenging; however, she shrugged and walked up beside him, drumming her fingers on her helmet slung under her arm:

"You win, Master Chief."

"I always do," John replied,

* * *

"Always have."

When they arrived at the medical center, it was bustling with doctors and marines alike, several personnel had been injured in the Covenant boarding attempt. As they took a few uncertain steps past the waiting room into the infirmary itself, a doctor who was walking past them with a handful of bandages, stopped.

"Only the injured at this time," he said, noting Amy's bloody forehead, and then at John and Renee, who of course looked fine, "Even if you're her friends, I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"You'll be alright here?" Renee asked Amy, who was sitting down in a chair to wait her turn. She nodded, with a little smile.

"You two go on," Amy replied, giving Renee a wink, "You don't have to wait for me outside, either. I'll find you, ok?"

Renee nodded – realizing for the first time she would be alone with John without Amy tagging along with them – even if it would be a few minutes before John would decide to leave her and go do his own thing. Considering she wasn't much of a conversation creator, and neither was the Spartan, she realized it would be most likely awkward. After receiving her friend's wink, it made her feel even worse.

"Ok. I'll see you later."

"See ya," Amy smiled broadly, giving her and John a little wave.

Renee and John walked out of the medical center out into the hallway, and instantly Renee felt unsure as to what to do. She cleared her throat, as the doors closed behind them, cutting off the noise from inside the room.

"So, where are you heading?" she asked, looking up to John's face, which was always a pain in the neck, literally. He was so tall, even without his armor – and since she wasn't that tall, it didn't make anything easy.

His serious eyes met hers, and he shrugged casually.

"I haven't got any plans," John replied, "Want to walk?"

For a moment, Renee considered saying no, that she realized she had something to do. She could go and help the cleaning technicians with the job of scrubbing alien blood off the floor-plates, that was always an option – but walking with John seemed slightly nicer.

"Sure."

They started walking down the hallway. John folded his arms calmly behind his back, keeping his pace slow in order to keep up with her – he had such long strides, Renee was quick to note. Despite the sounds of their footfalls on the floor, an awkward silence was creeping up on them. Renee stole a glance at John. He was looking straight ahead, that same serious, almost expressionless appearance on his face – his eyebrows slightly furrowed, his mouth a firm line. She wondered how he could manage to do it all the time. Except for that one time she saw him smile, it seemed that expression was always there, tweaked slightly perhaps with a little smirk, a raised eyebrow or narrowed eyes. None the less, it was almost _always_ there.

"I want to thank you again," Renee broke the silence, causing John to look down at her, "For saving my life. Amy told me that I hadn't been breathing when you found me – which makes sense because I don't remember much from being strangled."

"You wouldn't," John answered, "And I said before, you don't need to thank me."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask."

"Did you give me CPR?"

"Mouth to mouth resuscitation," John interjected, "I figured it would be the most accurate, because of your injured rib."

So, Amy _had _been telling the truth, after all. It wasn't a big deal; it was just a life saving tactic, Renee told herself, trying to ignore the embarrassment ebbing through her. She shouldn't feel embarrassed.

"Why?" he asked after a beat, raising his eyebrow slightly, altering the common expression ever so little.

"Amy was just saying," Renee shrugged, "I was just making sure she wasn't telling any stories. Amy does tell a lot of stories, you know. Don't always believe them, because mostly their false accusations or facts she makes up about other people."

"I see," John looked slightly amused, "You're a good friend, saying those things behind her back. Shame on you, Private."

"Oh, I didn't mean it in a hostile way!"

A smirk came to John's lips.

"I know."

"Why did you call me RenRen back there?" she suddenly asked, "Amy put you up to it, didn't she?"

"No. It was my own doing."

"Either you're learning from Amy, or you're really not what you seem."

"What do you mean?" John raised a brow, stopping and looking at her curiously. Renee took a couple of steps before realizing he stopped, and stopped herself.

"You're acting different," Renee declared, "I mean, you're a Spartan. In battle, everyone looks up to you and you're so serious, so composed. And here you are off duty, joking around and hanging out with a couple of Privates. Isn't that a little unprofessional?"

"Some may view it as such," John replied, "However, I act like this because I feel like I _can_. You and Amy aren't like the others; you don't avoid me or act like I'm some barbarian who'd rip your head off as soon as you look at me the wrong way."

"No one thinks that!"

"You'd be surprised."

"You're not that different, you know. You're still human."

"Thanks," John's expression softened upon her words, his mouth forming into a tight-lipped smile.

Renee caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and when she glanced ahead down the hallway, and her stomach did a little flip as she saw Lieutenant Fisher walking towards them.

Both she and John watched him approach, growing silent.

"Master Chief," Troy addressed him. John, held in place by rank, saluted him as he came to a stop in front of him. Troy was easily six feet tall, but John still towered over him, Renee noted.

"Lieutenant," John addressed Troy accordingly.

"I was told by Dr. Halsey to show you to your new room," Troy didn't look particularly thrilled, nor was he looking angry. It was the mood that was delicately balanced on the border of being happy and being miserable, a common one since Troy had became Lieutenant.

"Yes sir," John replied, looking slightly surprised.

"You know your way around, I'm assuming," Troy raised an eyebrow as he turned to lead John down the hallway.

"Yes, sir," John answered, and he began to follow Troy. He glanced back over his shoulder at Renee, who hadn't made a move to follow them – she hadn't been addressed and must've seen it fit to not bother following. Troy noticed this.

"You can come if you want, Kilburn," Troy said flatly, looking at her with an odd expression, "I'm surprised you're not with Smythe."

"She's in the infirmary receiving stitches," Renee replied, jogging to catch up with them, her dog-tags jingling, "They aren't allowing anybody without an injury to stick around, so John and I…"

"John?" Troy echoed, stopping and turning around to her, looking aggravated, "Jeus Christ, Marine, do you remember any of your training, or did being asphyxiated earlier screw with your memory? Let me give you a quick refresher course. You're a _Private_ - you salute anything that moves because chances are it's of higher standing! For Christ's sake, you don't go calling a higher-ranking officer by their first name! You say 'sir' or 'ma'am' or address them by their rank and surname! Wake up! He's Master Chief to you; sir to you, and that's it!"

"But he said I…" Renee started, but Troy cut her off

"Where's your mind! Don't talk back to me, Private – unless you want to be assigned floor-scrubbing duty! There's quite a bit of blood and brains left to be cleaned up from today's battle."

"Sorry, sir," her arm automatically snapped to a salute.

Troy turned back around and kept walking, shaking his head in disbelief. John glanced back at Renee, whose face was red with aggravation or embarrassment, he wasn't sure which. Lieutenant Fisher was incredibly harsh, and since Amy had told him that he and Renee had been friends since they were children, he found it even more out of place.

John had known his fellow Spartans, Kelly, Linda, Will, and James since they were kids, and he didn't treat them like they were just pawns for him to command. He valued each of them as companions as well.

The rest of the walk to John's new room was quiet. When they finally reached the designated room, Troy stopped, and gestured to a door.

"That's it," he said simply, "I'm next door, as are a lot of higher ranking officers, so you're getting pretty good housing, Spartan. You better appreciate it. Dr. Halsey has already gotten someone to move your belongings here."

"Thank you, sir," John answered.

"Don't thank me," Troy scoffed.

John turned to Renee.

"I'm going to go in my room, for a while, Private," John said, making sure to not call her by her name in front of Troy, "Private Smythe should be out of medical soon, so I'll see you around."

"See you, sir," Renee gave him a salute, following the same gimmick of not using his name.

John walked into his room, and as soon as the door was closed, Renee let out a sigh. She braced herself, because Troy was still standing there. She knew he would have something to say.

"I have a question, RenRen," Troy snapped, putting heavy sarcasm on her nickname, "What the hell are you and Amy doing hanging around with _him_?"

"It's amazing how you can call us by our names _now_, LT," Renee leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest.

"You didn't answer my question," Troy narrowed his blue eyes, which were blazing.

"Is there a rule against that too?" Renee raised her eyebrow, "Are you going to start telling me now who I can and cannot talk to now, is that it? Because if you are, I don't wanna hear it."

She turned and went to walk away, but Troy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back around to face him.

"Did I dismiss you?" Troy asked rhetorically.

Renee jerked her arm free of his grip, meeting his glare with an equally strong one.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she said lowly through clenched teeth, "You're not the same! It all started when I joined the UNSC, and now you've become a Lieutenant and you're a total asshole to everyone who has a lower rank than you do!"

"I have a responsibility now," Troy replied, narrowing his eyes, "Unlike you and Amy, I don't have time to go around chattering, gossiping and being a fool anymore. School was the time for that, and I've long since ironed out the immaturity. Where do you think I'd be right now if I went to the Academy with the same attitude I had during school? You think my jokes earned me this position? We're fighting a war, and I wish you would grow the hell up and realize I'm not going to act like the kid you knew in high school. People change."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that," Renee snapped, "I can accept change, for the most part. But when you start treating your childhood friends like they're nobodies, devoting your life to your rank and not even having the slightest humor to laugh at a god damned joke, it's pretty hard to get used to."

With that, she turned on her heel and left Troy standing there, who had a rather dumbstruck look on his face. He momentarily thought reprimanding her, but was glad to see her go. He cursed to himself and then walked off in the opposite direction.

* * *

In his new room, John was laying on his large bed - that could now occupy him entirely - his arms folded behind his head. He was looking up at the ceiling, with his eyebrows crumpled in concentration, showing that he was deep in thought.

He had just heard every word of Troy and Renee's argument. That was one part of the Spartans probably most people weren't aware of, his advanced hearing. He could hear things most people weren't able to, including conversations outside in the hallway through a closed door.

Now, John had a much better understanding of Renee's frustration with Troy Fisher. For the most part, after hearing their conversation, he agreed with Renee. Yes, Troy was expected to act responsibly, be strict on duty, but off duty, he was just as much of a stiff.

Yes, the situation with Troy, Renee and Amy had just been made a lot clearer for him, but not crystal clear. He was certain there was some things he didn't know, but now he had the basics.

Troy had been poisoned in some way, somehow something must have occurred that made him suddenly so harsh, sarcastic and rude. He wasn't even very nice to him, let alone Renee or Amy, but John didn't really care. Troy wasn't the first person to treat him like that, in fact, there had been many.

That's why John was glad he had people like Renee, Amy, and Dr. Halsey. People who treated him like he was normal, ignored his abnormalities, his height, his strength and his other features that struck mostly fear and intimidation to people he met.

For a moment, John felt a disruption in the air above him, like a breeze, but there wasn't any breeze on a space ship. John narrowed his eyes, and sat up, suddenly cautious. He looked around the room, and sat there, unmoving for several minutes, watching for anything that may be suspicious.

But when nothing happened, John assumed it was just his mind, after the Covenant attack today, he had been a little on the jumpy side. He laid back down, and decided it would be best to have a little rest. So he closed his eyes, and surprisingly went to sleep in less than a minute.


	8. Ice Breaker

**Chapter Seven**

**[March 10th, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **_**–**** Slipspace]**

It was past midnight when Amy got out of the medical center. Her wound was considered "minor", and she was one of the last to be seen to. She wasn't particularly fond of having to wait over five hours for medical treatment, only to find out her wound hadn't been that serious after all. She had needed three stitches, and then she was good to go. No concussion, no fractured skull, nothing serious.

Amy stormed quickly down the hallway, her hand over the bandage on her forehead. It was slightly throbbing, but it might not just be the wound, it could be her anger. She was angry at Renee for making her go to the medical center in the first place, but the further she got down the hallway away from that place, the sooner her anger seemed to cool down. She couldn't hold a grudge long against her best friend anyway; Renee had just been concerned, like any good friend would have been.

As she was walking, a small smile came onto her thin lips. She wondered what John and Renee might have done in those five hours they had been without her. The things her brain automatically cooked up were too absurd for them to have done, Amy knew it. But it was funny to think of that Spartan and her best friend alone with each other. It must have been awkward, she decided, unbearably awkward, and if she could have been a fly on the wall it would have been without a doubt – hilarious.

Now she had to try and find them. She decided to drop by the cafeteria first, which was the closest commonplace area in the direction she was heading. She just had to peek into the room to find out they weren't in there. There were only a few marines clustered at a back table, playing a game of cards. On a double take, Amy spotted Troy Fisher, among his other friends, Josh, Kirkland, Blaine, and other marines she didn't know.

Maybe they might have seen Renee or John.

Amy was feeling brave – she usually did, and she entered the cafeteria. The men didn't pay any attention to her until she had walked up to the head of the table and cleared her throat. Everyone, including Troy, turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from perturbed to amused.

Troy certainly picked a good crowd, they were all higher ranks, and most of them were Sergeants, one even being another Junior Lieutenant. These guys, like Troy, found the Privates amusing and looked down on them like one would look down on a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of their shoe.

Troy exchanged glances with his friends closest to him, and then he looked to Amy, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, Private Smythe?"

"Have you seen Renee anywhere?" Amy asked, feeling mocking eyes on her from the others at the table.

"Yes, matter of fact I did," Troy answered, his expression almost looked as if he was talking about someone repulsive, "A while ago, around 1900 hours… and she was with the Spartan."

"Freaky, that one," Blaine remarked lowly to Josh, although Amy heard it.

"That's being awfully specific," Amy said sarcastically to Troy, ignoring Blaine's comment. She folded her arms on her chest impatiently.

"I was ordered by Dr. Halsey," Troy dully remarked, looking to his hand of cards contemplatively, "To show Spartan to his new room in the officers' quarters, apparently his old one wasn't good enough for him," this got a few snickers from his friends, "And Kilburn was with him. However, he retired to his new room for a nap I believe; Kilburn and I exchanged a few words, she was her usual disrespectful self and stormed off, and that's…" Troy slapped down a card, and then looked up to Amy, "The last I saw of her."

"What'd you do to piss her off this time, Troy?"

"I didn't do a thing," Troy sighed as if this conversation was exhausting him, "Once again she brought up the same stupid story of how I've supposedly 'changed', and she shot off to me and left - nothing new. Now if you'd excuse us, Smythe, I've told you what you wanted to know. As you can see my friends and I are in the middle of a game. You're dismissed."

"Asshole," Amy muttered asshe turned on her heel and began striding to the nearest doorway.

"It's Lieutenant Fisher, to you."

Amy felt the veins throbbing in her temples, which hurt her stitches worse. She whipped around, and flashed Troy two middle fingers – but his expression changed none as he threatened her calmly:

"I could put you on deck-scrubbing duty for that disrespect, Private."

"Do it, LT, dare ya," she snapped, leaving the room before he could say anything more.

When she walked out into the quiet of the hallway, she sighed, and actually felt a little better. She also realized how tired she was, so she decided it would be a lot easier to find Renee in the morning. She was probably in her room anyway.

_**Eight Hours Later**_

John slowly drifted into consciousness, from a surprisingly dreamless and _good_ sleep. To his surprise, as well, he awoke this time, in the bed instead of on the cold floor. He was curled up cozily, lying diagonally across the wide bed; his head nestled on the comfortable down pillow.

Oh if the Covenant could see him now, he mused in the sleepy semi-conscious state. He blinked a few times, and stretched, but made no sudden move to get up. He looked to the alarm clock on the bedside table – a luxury item absent from his previous sleeping quarters – and saw it read 600 hours. Early in the morning, but it was not a surprising time to John. Ever since he could remember he had woken up fairly early, sometimes before anyone else. But also, 600 hours was the required time he had been expected to wake when he had been in boot, and his body seemed accustomed to that schedule, when he _did_ sleep that is. These two weeks in Slipspace would be a real treat when it came to rest, for when he was out in battle, he couldn't afford to sleep, and if the rare opportunity arose that it was possible, it was only a few hours, four at the most.

John's mind flickered back to the previous day, in the last hour he'd been awake with Renee. He remembered hearing Troy's grueling lecture through the door, and for a moment, despised the Junior Lieutenant. He had only come across a couple of officers with Troy's attitude, but Troy took the cake on being the worst he'd seen so far. Renee didn't deserve to be treated like that, but John knew she couldn't really do anything about it, for her lowly rank permitted her not even the right to speak unless spoken to. Private wasn't necessarily a bad rank, it was just the lowest on the scale, and therefore, no matter the person carrying it, whether they were good, bad or otherwise, would be treated accordingly, by their rank. John was actually surprised Renee had gotten away with the final word last night, for if Troy had wanted to, he could have gotten her in a lot of hot water. Either Troy got amusement out of angering her, or he couldn't be bothered reporting her – even though he had the authority to deliver the adequate discipline himself - whatever it might be. John wasn't about to ponder, he was only grateful that Troy had given her some slack.

How ridiculous it was, though; here they all were, fighting a war against the Covenant, and Troy had the mentality to go picking fights with one of his own. The word stupid came to mind, and John briefly smirked to himself. Yes, he decided, stupid being the harshest word to describe it. Maybe the 'Junior' part in Troy's rank was an underlying piece of evidence indicating the immaturity of his attitude.

John sighed, and reluctantly got of bed, striding over to the locker in the corner of the room, but was suddenly startled when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He whipped around, and for a moment was surprised. He hadn't noticed it before, but it was a mirror hanging on the far wall. An object that wasn't in his other room, an object that he hadn't looked in since forever, it seemed.

He walked over to the mirror, and stared at the ghostly pale, dark haired man, the unseen face of an "unfathomable hero". This man stared right back at him with a serious, almost _mean_ expression. He realized that was the expression he carried on his face all the time. Maybe that explained why half of the people he saw looked so intimidated. He quirked his lips up into a smirk, and saw even that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone.

"You're too damn serious," John muttered to the reflection in the mirror, and he leaned in to examine the faint prickly evidence of his facial hair growing back. He'd need to shave again soon.

John suddenly felt the urge to tear the mirror from the wall and chuck it under the bed – but he decided against it. He simply turned away and went to get his things from the locker. His small bag of toiletries, and a fresh pair of clothes, and without another glance to the mocking mirror, he left the room to take a shower.

* * *

Renee awoke abruptly, shooting up from her pillow, her forehead covered in sweat and she was gasping for air. She had yet another bad dream. As she looked around the somewhat comforting surroundings of her bedroom, she was relieved that no longer did she have to be plagued with the frightening reality of the dream. Of course, as dreams usually were, it had been inspired by the previous day's events, the Covenant attack and that Elite…

The scene had almost repeated itself in her mind as a dream, it was the same, frightening ordeal, but it had been different. Instead of hitting Amy, the Elite had shot her, and of course, Renee had tried to scream, but her voice wouldn't come. After seeing her friend drop to the floor in a bloody heap, Renee was plucked up off the ground and was strangled – and then Renee woke up when she passed out in the dream.

It was horrible, even though it was just a dream, Renee wanted to run to Amy's room and hug her - make sure she hadn't been shot and killed.

Renee remembered, she hadn't even gone to see if Amy had gotten out of the medical center last night. After the argument with Troy, she just went to bed, angry and tired, without even bothering to take a shower or anything. Damn Troy, the memories of the argument flooded into her mind; he was such an asshole. Hard to believe she wasted almost five years of her life in a relationship with him. Despite being angry last night, Renee couldn't help but feel a little heartbroken as well. Not because she still loved him or anything - that was ridiculous thought – but because it was truly made apparent that her childhood friend Troy Fisher, the one she cared about and had been so close to, had been swallowed up by a stranger. That's what he was to her now, a stranger.

Last night, that hadn't been the Troy she knew.

Renee felt stupid, for she had shed a few tears last night, over something so dumb. It was dumb, there was no need to cry, besides, she wasn't meant to cry. She was a marine now, no longer some hopeful romantic high school student. That was long behind her.

Renee let out a deep sigh, and vowed she wouldn't cry again over the matter. Troy was gone, deal with it, she told herself plainly. She ran her fingers through her hair and climbed out of bed, feeling almost nostalgic as she opened her locker, retrieved her things needed for a morning shower – her hair was getting to look greasy – and without another thought about the horrid dream or last night's events, she left the room.

She made her way down the hallway, pausing for a moment at Amy's door, pondering the idea whether she should poke her head in if Amy was awake and say hello, but there could never just be a "hello" spoken between them, it never was one word. A conversation always followed, so Renee decided she might drop by later, or perhaps just meet her in the cafeteria.

Renee hurried to the showers, and when she walked in it was empty except for one. The shower in the far left corner of the room was in use. She quickly set her things down on the nearest bench, got a couple of fresh towels, laid them down just outside of the shower for an easy reach, and quickly got out of her clothes, throwing them over onto the bench. Her toss was clumsy – maybe it was the sleepy mood she was in – and her clothes half landed on the bench, some of them falling to the floor. She sighed but went into the shower.

It was quick, yet refreshing, and Renee felt a little more awake. After she washed her hair and her body, she just stood there and just enjoyed the hot water, until of course, she reached her time limit and the shower automatically shut off.

"Damn," Renee said quietly, but she bent down and reached out of the curtain and grabbed the towels, wrapped herself up in them, and slid back the curtain and stepped out.

That's when her mood changed entirely.

Standing just outside of the shower in that back corner, fully naked, was John. Renee and John realized each other were there at the exact same time, their eyes met for a second, and then Renee whirled around away from him.

"Sorry!" Renee cried, feeling her face turning red, "So sorry!"

John, who was utterly as surprised as she was, at first was lost for words.

"Its fine," he said quickly, backing up, not looking at her. He quickly swiped a towel off the bench and wrapped it around his waist. Not often was he one to get embarrassed, but for the first time in a long time, he felt it.

Renee stood there, frozen. She wasn't sure what to do, what to say, anything. She could hear John moving around, probably getting some clothes on, and that made her self-conscious of her standing there in a little towel.

"I'm decent," John said awkwardly, looking for the right choice of words. He had pulled on some clothes for his lower half. Renee was still turned away from him, and she didn't move.

John felt the awkwardness in the air; it was so thick he could cut it with a knife.

Slowly but surely, Renee turned around to face him. She peeked over her shoulder at first nervously, to make sure, and then she turned around fully. Her red cheeks were really visible, and John knew it wasn't because of the humidity of the room.

She bravely looked up into his eyes, although at first he saw her glance at his bare chest.

"I'm really sorry! I wasn't expecting…"

"It's fine, really," John assured her; fumbling with his shirt he held in his hands. He went to smirk, but remembered that chiseled like expression from the mirror, so he allowed his face muscles to relax and surprisingly his mouth spread into an honest smile; he couldn't see it, but he knew it was a natural looking smile.

"I'm going to get dressed," Renee said. She shuffled over to the bench, swiped up her clothes, and hurried to the nearest changing room.

When she had closed the door, John let out a big sigh, and looked down to his shirt in his hands, which he had twisted into an almost painful looking contortion. He quickly shook it free and shrugged it on. The embarrassment he had been feeling was still there and he was kind of thrown off by his oddly warm cheeks.

Renee emerged from the changing room a couple of minutes later, dressed in the plain uniform, and she smiled sheepishly at him, her cheeks still a little pink, and she made her way back over to the bench, where she sat her dirty uniform and the towels beside her bag of toiletries.

"I can't apologize enough," she spoke, as she began rummaging through the bag of toiletries, "I'm sorry."

John gathered up his things from the bench and walked over to her, and sat on the end of her bench. With him sitting and her standing, they were almost at eye-level. It kind of felt nice, John noted, instead of looking down on her as he usually did.

"It was what you would call an icebreaker, I guess," John answered with a smirk. Renee glanced up at him, and laughed slightly.

"Yeah, I guess it was," She replied. She looked back down to digging through the bag of toiletries once again. A piece of hair fell in her eyes, and she swiftly tucked it back behind her ear, seeming kind of irritated, "I hate my hair, sometimes," she rambled nervously, "I'm actually thinking of getting it all chopped off, you know? Not as short as yours, but…"

"I think your hair is fine the way it is," John admitted truthfully.

Renee didn't really know how to respond to that at the moment, so she just nodded dumbly. She wasn't really looking for anything in her bag, she was just making it look like she was doing something, but she finally decided it only made her look like a twit, so she stopped, and sat down on the bench beside John timidly.

"How are you?" John asked. He was getting better at conversations.

"Better than I was yesterday," Renee answered, her hair once again falling disobediently in her face, but this time she didn't bother tucking it back. She met his eyes – and there was a moments silence as they just looked at each other. Finally, she remembered to add, "I had a nightmare though."

"About what happened yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I often have nightmares," John said thoughtfully, reaching back and scratching the back of his head, "But, I'm used to them. Hopefully you won't have them so much that you'll get accustomed to them…"

"I hope so too."

They both turned to look as a couple of marines walked into the room, and then looked back to each other. John stood up, automatically catching the attention of the two marines. He gathered up his things, and Renee copied him.

"I'm going to the cafeteria after I drop off my things," John said lowly, looking down at her, "Let's make our rendezvous point there."

"Okay," Renee nodded numbly.

"Alright," John remembered to smile correctly this time, "I'll see you in a few minutes," He glanced at the two marines then back to her, "Private Kilburn."

She nodded, and he left the room in five long strides. She clumsily gathered up her things and left the room as well, heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

When Renee reached the cafeteria, John was already there waiting for her. He handed her a tray, and they walked into the line together. Renee felt her stomach flip when she saw Troy, and two of his friends, Josh and Blaine approaching them. Grabbing trays, hey got in line behind her and John. She instantly grew rigid and turned her back to them. The last person she wanted to see at the moment was Troy and his asshole friends.

"The Private's tagging along with the Spartan. How odd," she heard one of Troy's friends whisper.

Renee glanced over her shoulder, and saw Josh, Blaine, and Troy looking at her with amused expressions on their faces. Acting indifferent, she just turned back around and did her best to ignore them. As she was getting her food, she heard more chatter from the trio behind her. If John was hearing it, he didn't let on. He was just once again piling his plate high full of food.

She felt relieved when they finished going through the line-up and she and John quickly went to their table. Renee had their talking go to her, and she didn't even wait until she was seated to express her frustration.

"Did you hear what they were saying?"

"Yes," John answered calmly, meanwhile putting jam on his toast, "Let them talk. In my honest opinion, I find it hard to believe that Troy got to the rank of Junior Lieutenant."

Renee paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully at John.

"You know, it's true. What's strange is, Amy once told me that I could be a Lieutenant."

"If you were a determined leader, with a diligent mind and tactical skills that would keep you and your men alive, I agree." John replied truthfully, a serious look on his face.

"It was only a joke," Renee said in surprise, "I wouldn't know what to do if I were a Lieutenant."

"Maybe not that high of a rank, then," John took a bite of toast, "Anything besides a Private. Both you and Amy are talented enough to carry something better than Private."

Renee paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, and she smiled slightly.

"Thank you," she said quietly, but John didn't get a chance to respond.

"There you are!"

A loud familiar female voice rung out from the crowd, catching not just the attention of John and Renee but everyone else at the table. Sure enough, Amy was hurrying over to them. She reached the table in seconds and set her tray down and sat beside Renee. She looked at John, then at her best friend.

"Now tell me, how was it?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face.

"How was what?"

"Last evening without me," Amy folded her hands beneath her chin and looked from John to Renee again anxiously, "What did I miss?"

"Nothing worth telling, I'm afraid."

"John, she's being reluctant, tell me!" Amy looked to him instead.

"She's telling the truth."

"I heard you got into another scrap with Troy," Amy looked over to Renee, who paused with her milk-carton halfway to her lips.

"Who told you that?" she asked, seeming kind of upset.

"The son of a bitch himself," Amy announced, gesturing over to Troy, sitting at the same table he had been the night before, "I was looking for you guys last night, and I asked him, not that he gave me much clues as to where you were, so I went to bed afterwards."

"I see."

"I flipped him off last night," Amy declared proudly, a smile coming across her face, "He was there with his bunch of boyfriends and was rude to me, so…"

"Amy," John said flatly, giving her a look of disapproval, "That's what Troy wants, and doing those type of things makes you just as good as he is."

"Sorry. I couldn't really resist, though. It's kind of a reflex of mine."

"Find a new one."

"Yes sir," Amy smiled, raising an eyebrow and making a sloppy salute, and she looked to Renee and gave her a wink..

"How's the head?" Renee asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, right," Amy reached up and lightly touched her stitches, "Pretty good, the Doc said I can get them out in a week's time, maybe less, depending on how fast I heal."

As Amy and Renee continued their small talk, nibbling at their breakfast as they did, John quickly finished his own breakfast, wolfing it down in a matter of minutes. He never had been used to having time to enjoy his food, and even now when he actually could, he still felt compelled to eat it quickly – as if something would come up that would need for him to abandon it. Tossing his napkin, forks and empty carton of milk onto his tray, John stood. This caught the two girls' attention, for they stopped talking and turned to look at him.

"If you'd excuse me," John said, "I don't mean to eat and run, but I have to go to the armory; I never got a chance to clean my armor from yesterday's battles."

"Oh alright then," Amy answered for her and Renee.

"I'll see you two later," John looked to Amy, and then fixed his gaze on Renee, who surprisingly didn't look away. He smiled slightly, and decided to do what he had seen Amy do several times. He gave her a quick wink, which only could be seen if one was truly paying attention, due to his quick reflexes. Renee was indeed paying attention however, and she saw it, and looked at him with a somewhat bewildered expression. The wink got past Amy – she didn't even notice.

He then turned on his heel and left without any further ado.

Renee let out a sigh, watching him weave through the crowd, a head above everyone else, until he exited the room and was gone. She turned to Amy, who looked to be lost in her thoughts, her fork tapping against her chin.

"He just _winked_ at me," Renee declared lowly.

"I didn't see it," Amy replied curtly, as if only what passed her eyes counted, "I think you're imagining things."

"No. He's mimicking you," Renee hissed, "He winked at me and I saw it. I know what I saw."

"He probably doesn't even know what a wink means," Amy waved her hand, "Don't get your panties in a knot about it."

"I never got a chance to tell you this earlier, since John was here, but you wouldn't guess who I ran into in the showers this morning."

"Hm?" Amy was half paying attention, her eyes pointed in the direction of Troy's table, no doubt nosy as to what might be happening with them today.

"Well, I went in this morning and there had been one shower in use. So I took my shower, grabbed my towel, got out, but I turned around and who did I see standing butt naked in front of me? John."

Amy's eyes tore away from Troy's table and met her friend's gaze, her expression instantly changing. She let out a snort, a grin crawling across her face and eyebrows rising in surprise.

"You're lying!" she gasped, not willing to believe it.

"No. I'm serious – I never felt so embarrassed! He didn't seem to mind as much as I, but, oh how embarrassing!"

"Did you get a good look at him?" Renee could've predicted this would be Amy's primary concern.

"No, there was quite a bit of steam from the showers…"

Renee tried to keep her face serious, but when she saw Amy's smile get bigger; she couldn't help but smile too. They both erupted into a fit of laughter.

* * *

'Kolsamee stood against the wall of the cafeteria, having just watched the whole scene at the table with the Demon and his two female companions. He was invisible, of course, and now he was watching the Demon as he made his way through the crowd, put away his tray and left the room. Making sure no one was looking in his direction, 'Kolsamee then darted out after him, and began following the Demon down the hallway, sticking close to the walls as possible.

He followed him all the way to the ship's armory, where he went over to the suit, the interesting piece of technology that had gotten 'Kolsamee to investigate him in the first place.

John walked over to his suit, standing back for a moment to observe the job ahead of him. It wasn't _that_ bad. The suit, disassembled in pieces, was splattered in blood, both Elite and Grunt, a mixture of dark purple and light blue. Also, he was pretty sure there was some dried brain matter stuck to it as well, from when he had stuck that grenade to the Elite's head. After observing this, he went around the room, getting the correct things to clean his MJOLNIR armor.

John was just about to start wiping down the chest plates with a rag, when suddenly, he heard a slight noise. He whipped around, scanning the room, but saw nothing. He turned his head to the right, as he heard another noise. John narrowed his eyes, and then grabbed a pistol from the table.

'Kolsamee, who was frozen against the right wall of the armory, had accidentally run into a small box of ammo that had been left on the floor, and now he eyed the Demon, who was now beginning to scour the room, with a pistol in hand. He realized that if the Demon found him, a shot to the head from the pistol would easily take down his shields and kill him – his shields were not as strong as other Elites were, due to the fact he was stealth.

He began moving slowly, towards the exit, and John began coming in his direction. 'Kolsamee noticed he was kicking at the air, so he realized the Demon wasn't as stupid as he thought. He was assuming Stealth Elite… not bad.

Just as the Demon turned his back to him, 'Kolsamee bolted out of the room and down the hallway without looking back. He darted into the nearest broom closet, and tapped his helmet furiously to try and connect with 'Malnoonee.

His headset buzzed with static, and 'Kolsamee cursed in his alien tongue. Well, he might not be able to contact 'Malnoonee at the moment, but when he could, he had some very nice information to pass on.

The Demon, he discovered, seemed to be good friends with those two human girls, the one with the dark hair in particular. The one he had tried to strangle. No wonder he was so quick to try and save her the day before. Yes, this was very interesting information, and 'Malnoonee would be pleased to hear about it.

Perhaps, they could make use of this human girl, as bait.


	9. Feelings

**Chapter Eight **

**[March 10, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_**, Slipspace]**

John didn't feel the least bit at ease in the armory, even after he had scoured the room multiple times. He was reluctant to set down his pistol and retrieve the rag from the floor and continue to clean his MJOLNIR armor, but he did. As he carefully set the weapon down on the table from which he had snatched it, and as he stooped to pick up the rag, his adrenaline was pumping fiercely through him, his heart pounding wildly in his ears and his hands shaking despite his efforts to hold them still.

_Paranoia_, a little voice in his head was telling him. Perhaps the dramatic change in his schedule - all the time spent out in the field fighting Covenant, changed to an almost casual life for a couple of weeks aboard a cruiser in Slipspace was getting to him.

_Go into cryo_, the same voice was urging, _go into cryo sleep for the rest of this Slipspace jump_. He would be able to rest, without little things such as noises setting him off and getting him on edge. But, no, he couldn't go into cryo, he had friends. He had Renee and Amy now; he wasn't just the anti-social Spartan anymore.

John sighed, and rose to his full height, cracked his knuckles, and then turned to face his MJOLNIR armor. His mirrored visor looked coldly back at him, giving him nothing but his own reflection, and for a moment John realized what it must be like for the others he encountered, for those who didn't know – what the face beneath the visor looked like, who the person was, who Spartan-117 really was.

Not that it really mattered, John decided, as he stared at his reflection in the visor for a few seconds. He spotted a smudge of grease in the corner of his nose, which stuck out boldly against his pale skin, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. He'd only get more on him before the job of cleaning his armor was done.

John dropped his gaze from his reflection; the face of Spartan-117 was nothing magnificent, nothing jaw-dropping. As far as he was concerned, he was just another human being, however it was rarely ever that he was treated like so.

As he began cleaning his armor from the bottom up – he had gotten to the knee-plates before he had been distracted – Renee came to his mind. He pictured her perfectly; he always had a knack for photographic memory.

He realized being treated like a normal human being had been a rare event, until he had met Renee and Amy. Although he wasn't even being close to getting used to it, he had to admit, he liked the normality.

He furiously rubbed at a rather large spot of dried Elite blood on the right thigh armor plating; a recent memory came back into his mind. The incident in the shower room; he had walked out of the shower naked, and to his surprise had seen Renee standing there in a mere towel. He remembered the shocked look on her face, and to his own surprise, he laughed.

It was soft and muffled at first, but he realized he was alone and there would be no one to criticize, so he allowed himself to laugh. The boisterous laughter that came from deep down in his chest surprised him. He hadn't laughed that freely in a long time, and he had to take a couple of seconds to realize it was actually him making the joyous sound.

He wiped the smile from his face, shook his head, feeling his cheeks burning. This feeling he had right now, warmed him and made him feel happy and almost _giddy_. He also felt foolish as well, for it obviously wasn't the first time he had been in the showers and had seen his fellow soldiers naked or half naked – or vice versa. Something about this incident in particular – John wasn't exactly sure what it was – made him have an almost immature reaction.

Being unsure was something John didn't like; he always wanted to be sure on what was going on, especially when he couldn't figure out a probable answer himself to the issue. As he continued to clean his armor, he felt an urge building inside of him to go and talk to Dr. Halsey. If anyone could give him an answer or perhaps a suggestion, it would be her. Ever since he had first met her in the playground at his school back on Eridanus II – a little yet bold memory – Dr. Halsey had always struck him as someone wise and knowing, an almost motherly figure to him and his Spartans.

She _did_ know a lot; after all she was a doctor and the creator of the Spartan II program. John had faith in her and strongly believed he could possibly find an answer to the unsurely feelings and emotions, which were almost alien to him.

John finished cleaning his armor, tossed the rag on a nearby table, and stepped back to appreciate his work. The green body plates shone almost like mirrors, glinting on the black backdrop of the matte suit beneath. A good job, his suit would be in good condition until the next conflict with Covenant, where it would get dirtied and bloodied up and have to be cleaned again.

Taking one last suspicious look around the room, John pulled down his sleeves of his uniform and wiped his hands on his pants. He mentally decided that he _was_ going to pay a visit to Dr. Halsey. If she wasn't tired or busy, he knew she would be more than willing to sit down and talk to him, almost like a mother would a child.

John made it to the bridge in a fair amount of time, although he walked at a casual pace with his hands in his pockets. When he reached the bridge, however he snapped to the correct posture and walked in, although he felt a little uneasy.

"We have a visitor," Keira said with a smile from her holographic panel, being the first to see him enter. Thomsen and the other people on the bridge turned to look at John. Thomsen straightened and greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Master Chief," he said.

"Sir," John saluted, "I'm looking for Dr. Halsey, sir. Have you seen her?"

"She's in the officer's mess, I do believe," Thomsen replied, "In the meeting room, to be exact. That's where she told me she was heading about an hour ago… If it's important I can call her here to the bridge over the intercom…"

"No, that's fine, sir," John said quickly, absentmindedly fiddling with his shirttail with one hand, "It's not urgent; I'll find her."

"Alright," Thomsen answered, raising an eyebrow in slight suspicion, having taken note to John's slight fidgeting. From what he knew of the Spartans, and how well they were trained, surely one of the main things they were taught was not to fidget while in attention. This was odd behavior. However, he said nothing more as John saluted him, and turned on his heel and left the bridge.

"He seemed… different," Keira noted observantly, rubbing her chin with her hand, "Not the usual John… even though I've not been given the pleasure of knowing him as well as you or Catherine, I can tell there was something on his mind. Didn't seem as concentrated, don't you think, Blake?"

She looked to Thomsen, whose eyes were narrowed and his brow wrinkled from thought.

"Hmm."

That's all he said before he turned and sat back down in chair and getting back to looking to his computer screen.

* * *

John, his mind whirring, strode into the officer's mess, and followed the sound of conversation to a nearby door, which led into the meeting room. When he heard Dr. Halsey's calm yet serious voice, he didn't think about knocking, instead he barged right in.

He realized the moment he stepped across the threshold into the room, and everyone, including Dr. Halsey, all sitting around a long table, turned to look at him. John spotted Troy at the table as well – who was giving him an odd look - and he realized Dr. Halsey was in the middle of a meeting with the ship's officers.

He froze, feeling at least twelve accusing pairs of eyes on him, and was about to excuse himself and leave the room quickly, but Dr. Halsey pushed back her chair and stood, her expression instantly becoming concerned.

"John!" she exclaimed, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, ma'am," John croaked, feeling stupid, "I'm sorry, I didn't think to… I just…"

Dr. Halsey looked at him in silence.

"I can leave, I'll come back…" John turned to leave.

"No, John," Dr. Halsey said quickly, "We were finishing up the meeting anyway. Stay," she turned to the officers seated around the table, "You're dismissed, if there's anything else I think of I'll call you back this evening at the latest."

John corrected himself to stand at proper attention as he watched the officers push back their chairs and file out of the room. Troy, who was one of the last to leave, had a mocking smile on his face.

"Another bedroom not good enough for you, Sparty?" he grinned. John didn't say a word, but the two men just exchanged daring glares as they passed abreast of each other. Troy's arrogance was overwhelming to John, although he didn't let it intimidate him – instead he allowed it to humor him. John felt like chuckling, but he kept it inside – he had already done enough in the past five minutes that was out of line.

The last remaining officer left the room, and except for the hiss of the doors closing behind him, the room was deathly quiet for a few moments. Dr. Halsey, who was dressed in her civilian clothes, a simple blouse and slacks, looked to the door then her eyes swept up to meet John's.

"What on earth is wrong?" she said quietly, walking around the table to be closer to John, "I've known you since were six years old, and I know when something's on your mind. I don't recall ever seeing you this way before. Not that I'm perturbed at your barging in, I'm just a little concerned. You must have something urgent to tell me if you seek me out in such a way."

"Ma'am," John began, clearing his throat, but Dr. Halsey interrupted him.

"Forget the formalities, John," she sighed, sitting in a chair. She looked up to him, and gestured to the chair next to her, "Sit."

John nodded, and walked over to the chair in two big strides and sat down. He looked at her, and she leaned back in her chair, picking up a pen from the table and fiddling with it, twirling it in her fingers.

"Now, spill it, to put bluntly," Dr. Halsey said with a huff, "Something's on your mind, and I'm glad you feel you can confide in me to be someone in which you can speak."

"I… well, I… what I'm feeling," John folded his hands on his lap, gazing across the room for a moment, like something in the sparsely decorated room would make saying this easier. He couldn't find such object and he looked back to Dr. Halsey's friendly eyes, "I've never… I don't know what it is."

"Describe this feeling," she replied calmly, "Take your time."

"I suppose I should tell you… from the beginning," John bit his lip thoughtfully, "There are these two Privates, Renee Kilburn, and Amy Smythe. Renee… - I call both of them by their first names – she was the one with the fractured rib…"

"Ah yes," Dr. Halsey nodded, "And the friend of hers was Amy?"

"Yes," John replied, "Well you see… they treat me differently, they treat me like you do. Like I'm like everybody else, like I'm not a Spartan. Like I'm one of them, so to say and I never had made friendships with Marines; In some ways, I'm closer to them than I am to my fellow Spartans."

Dr. Halsey nodded in interest.

"Yes…" she said quietly.

"And, it's just… different," John said, "I don't really know how to explain it, but… and this morning… I was in the showers, and when I got out, Renee was there… and it was an embarrassing experience, more towards her than I, in fact it didn't really bother me that much, until I was alone and I started thinking about it. I feel… so weird, whenever I think about her… I… don't…" John trailed off and dropped his head into hands; "This is so odd, I don't even know…" he sighed deeply, and then looked back up to Dr. Halsey, "I was hoping you could help me."

He was thrown off a little when he saw Dr. Halsey was smiling.

"You don't need to explain anymore," she told him, "It's quite apparent what's going on."

"It is?" John asked, cocking an eyebrow, "What is it? Is it normal?"

"Perfectly normal," Dr. Halsey smiled fully, and she reached out and took John's large calloused hands in her small, bony ones, "Tell me, does your heart flutter whenever you see her? Do you feel happy, content, when around her? Embarrassed, even?"

"Yes," John looked down to her hands holding his, and he gently pulled his hands back and folded them on his lap. He sighed, furrowing his brows, "How is that normal? I've never felt it before, how could it be _normal_?"

"You're twenty-four years of age, now aren't you?" Dr. Halsey asked rhetorically, "You're a handsome young man, and what you're experiencing is perfectly normal. Everyone, almost everyone, at least, experiences it at least once in their lives. For some people, the right person just has to come along. You're in love."

"Love?" John echoed, letting his face muscles relax and his face contorted into a natural confused expression, "That's what it is?"

"Mhm," Dr. Halsey smiled, "You've loved before, just in a different way. You loved your parents and family when you were little… but you forgot that emotion as you underwent training. But this kind of love is a different love from how you'd love your family. This love can happen at any time, and sometimes it can be confusing, as you are currently confused. But, it's perfectly normal."

"I know what that kind of love is," John nodded, "I've heard the marines a lot, talking about their girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, children. I know what love is, well the definition at least. I just never thought I'd feel it."

"Private Kilburn is a pretty girl," Dr. Halsey replied, "And seems to be smart, kind, and obviously brave to be in the UNSC."

"What do I do? I don't normally ask for directions, but this is a field I'm not experienced in… so to say."

"There are no real directions. Your heart will tell you what to do; it's kind of an instinct, John, so just take it day by day."

John nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Halsey," he said quietly.

"Anytime, John."

John got to his feet, and he saluted her, and she returned his salute sloppily just for fun, with a smile. She rarely saluted.

"Oh, and John," she said just about as he was to leave. He turned around to face her curiously. Her expression hardened, "Love, as you may already know, is an awfully powerful emotion. I'm not saying that this will necessarily happen to you, but love can occasionally cloud one's mind. Remember your place. You can't afford to let your mind be on anything else but the battle when you're out on the field. If you're not careful, it could cost you."

John narrowed his eyes, finding it hard to believe that an emotion could affect him, could possibly get him killed during battle, but he gave a nod of his head.

"I will keep that in mind," he answered.

* * *

John went from there to the weight room, his mind busier than it had been before he had gone to see Dr. Halsey. Her words echoed in his head, repeating themselves. He found it hard to believe, but that _he_, of all people, was in love.

On his way down the hallway, he had laughed to himself a couple of times, finding it quite difficult to hold back smiles or the occasional chuckle. Now that he had figured out what this strange feeling was, it kind of relieved him.

However, in a way, he felt kind of lost, as well. Dr. Halsey had told him there were no directions to loving someone; she had said it was an _instinct_. At the moment, for an instinct, this emotion seemed not very self-explanatory. For the moment, anyway, he was walking blind in a new feeling that he hadn't felt before. Instinct to him was how to fight, how to win, how to lead – he had never known any other forms.

Sure he had loved, when he was a little boy, but Dr. Halsey said this was a different love entirely, and John believed it. Loving his mother or father hadn't been confusing, it was just natural. Well, maybe, in time, this other love would become just like that.

When John walked into the gym, he felt his stomach flip when he saw Troy Fisher was there. Troy's earlier comment to him signified that probably, this encounter would not go without more of the Lieutenant's sly remarks.

John was right.

He hadn't even picked up a dumbbell, when he looked up to see Troy leaning on one of the machines, not three feet away. He had that same stupid-looking grin on his face.

"Hello," Troy said happily, but John didn't reply right away, instead he shot him with a glare that clearly had an effect on him. Although Troy wasn't trying to show it, John could see that the glare had intimidated him. He abandoned the dumbbell he was going to pick up and rose to his full height, which was at least a head taller than Troy.

"Lieutenant," John said, raising an eyebrow, watching as Troy's accusing eyes followed his face. John folded his arms on his chest, glowering down upon him. Something about Troy all of a sudden got on his nerves, his arrogant expression, perhaps. He felt like taking him and firing him through a wall, although of course, he would never do it. If he wanted to, he could take Troy and tie him into a knot without even breaking a sweat.

"Did you get yet another room?" Troy asked, "The bed not comfortable enough this time, or what?"

"No," John snapped, "Last time I checked, my business with Dr. Halsey is in fact _mine_, not to mention classified."

"Watch that tone, _John_," Troy snapped, mockingly using his name, "You're enlisted, and last time I checked, I'm an officer. I have the right to put enlisted personnel in their place, and I didn't quite like the way you just spoke to me. I'm actually surprised, you're usually respectful. Instead, you didn't insert even one sir into that sentence."

"Don't you have something better to do, sir?"

"Don't you have any memory of the proper way to respond to an officer?" Troy raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes, "Have you decided to take after those two pathetic Privates and think it's alright to talk back, or what?"

"Sir," John said, feeling his anger beginning to spike, "I'm not really the one to talk. I prefer to utilize weapons when it comes to conflict instead of running my mouth off."

"Is that a challenge, Spartan?" Troy asked.

"No," John turned and began to walk calmly towards the elliptical machine, "Not unless you want to wind up on the floor in a misshapen lump of broken bones."

Troy laughed at John's words, although no humor showed on his face, his expression was one of disbelief. He followed him to the machine.

"I didn't say you were dismissed, Master Chief," Troy said, and he grabbed John by the shoulder to try and turn him around. The moment his hand made contact with his shoulder, there was a blur, Troy felt John's hand shove him backwards – the movement seemed to jar every bone in his body – and he stumbled and almost fell, but managed to catch himself on one of the machines. He stared at John in bewilderment and anger.

"Don't touch me," John said icily, looking right into Troy's eyes.

"Don't _shove_ me," Troy snapped back quickly, although the wildness in John's eyes made him slightly frightened. John could read it all over his face – but it was soon masked by a hardened expression, "Just because you're a Spartan you think you rule the roost, buddy, but let me tell you something; I make no exceptions for any seven feet tall, armor-clad bunch o' freaks, yourself included."

The word 'freak' made John's adrenaline fly, and his memory swept back to his initial instructions of a Spartan. His job was to annihilate any threats, and at the moment, Troy _could_count as a threat. The thought of giving Troy a good punch to the solar plexus, perhaps breaking a couple of his ribs, gave John a satisfaction. _That_ would most certainly teach Troy a lesson, but, John knew he couldn't dare… unless Troy initiated the first move.

Troy watched John's facial expressions, smiling contentedly as he knew his words hit a nerve somewhere.

"You know it's true, don't you?" Troy asked, letting his grin get bigger, "You know what you are. You may have all the medals Master Chief, but personally, I think medals should be awarded to Marines, the ones who can die out in the battle field, the ones without the armor to save their asses from plasma. You're only good at what you do because you are _mutated_."

"Augmented." John's voice carried a deadly tone.

"Same difference," Troy scoffed, "Both are sure as hell far away from normal. But, don't get me wrong - I have respect for you Spartans, and what you've done for humanity, but when you're here aboard our ship, mingling with everybody else like you are a common marine, it really pisses me off. _You_ piss me off."

"Likewise, Lieutenant," John replied, allowing himself to smirk ever so slightly.

"Listen here," Troy said, clenching his teeth. He walked forward and reached for John's shirt, but John snatched his wrists, twisted his arms, spinning him around. Troy didn't have enough time to even let out a yell, before he felt John's foot wrap around his with almost bone-breaking strength, and the floor came rushing up to meet him and he landed on the cold floor with a loud thud.

John followed him to the floor, his heart pounding wildly, each beat echoing through his head like a drum. Troy yelled something, but John didn't really listen. He picked Troy up by the shoulders and flipped him onto his back just like he was picking up a ragdoll. He slammed him against the floor, hard, almost knocking the wind out of him.

Troy's expression had instantly gone from surprised to terrified – all color left his face as he looked fearfully into his eyes.

"No, _you_ listen, _sir_," John snapped through clenched teeth, his voice raised, "Don't touch me ever again. I've had the orders since I was fourteen years old if there was a threat to me or any of my allies, it was my job to annihilate the threat. Now I could take you right now and break every single bone in your body…" as he spoke it began to dawn on him what he was doing, and who he was doing it to, "Now if you know what's good for you, I'd listen the next time I tell you something."

He let Troy go, stepping back from him, panting from anger. John realized he had just _assaulted _a higher ranking officer, and also realized that the excuse that Troy touched him wouldn't do him much good. The Lieutenant sat up slightly, wiping at the dirt on his uniform, looking bewildered as John rose to his full height. At a loss for words, Troy staggered to his feet, never once taking his eyes off John. For a long moment, there was dead silence as the two men just stared at each other.

John suddenly caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped around to see Renee, looking absolutely horrified, standing in the entrance to the gym. His heart fluttered, and realized that she had watched what just happened.

She took a couple steps forward, inching closer like she was afraid. She glanced from Troy, then to John. He tried to find words, but his mouth opened and closed with not a sound. He looked to Troy, who still had nothing in his eyes but malice for him.

"I have a witness!" Troy shouted, his voice suddenly coming back to him, echoing through the large room. He gave an uncertain look to John before turning to Renee, "Did you see that? He attacked me! He – he threatened to _kill_ me!"

There was a long beat of silence once more, as Renee looked at Troy, over to John, then back again. It was hard to read her face.

"I saw," she nodded, her voice small. She watched as a smile started to come to Troy's face, a look of relief, but she quickly shot it down, "I saw you provoked him, Lieutenant."

"Renee, I was simply exercising my authority! Then he goes apeshit and threatens to what, what was it, John?" he turned to glare at him, "Crush me? Break every bone in my body? You're a fucking _psycho_, that's what you are. You're not suitable to be with normal people, and I'll see to it that -"

"Troy!"

"–you get put in cryo for the rest–"

"_Troy_!" Renee raised her voice, it came out sharp, and this surprised the Lieutenant and John alike. After a moment of silence, she spoke again with regained composure: a soft, calm voice; matter-of-fact, "He acted out because you instigated him."

"Who have you known longer?" Troy seemed bewildered that she wouldn't take his side, "Me, or Spartan here? You have the right to believe me; you can _trust _me. He attacked me! If you hadn't come, God knows what he would have done to me!"

"It's interesting how you change when you want me to act in your favor," Renee said coldly, "Besides; I watched it with my own eyes. I know who did what."

Troy looked at her for a long time, and then he shook his head.

"You believe him, over me," Troy said softly, nodding, "Never thought you'd betray me like that, RenRen, never thought it."

Renee glanced at John, who was standing, unmoving, several feet away. His eyes were on Troy, and then darted to her, and he slightly altered his facial expression so it allowed slight emotion to squeeze through, although Renee wasn't sure what it meant, and she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Troy suspiciously looked at her through narrowed eyes, and then whipped around to John, who carried a similar expression on his face to Renee's. He scoffed.

"Oh, I get it, guys," Troy snapped with a smirk, nodding. He folded his arms, and looked at the both of them again, as they pretty much ignored his presence and continued to look at each other, "I understand now. It's all in your expressions; how predictable." Renee shot him a glare, and he let out a chuckle,"Cheer up, girlie."

Before Renee could do anything, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She let out a disgusted noise, and roughly shoved him backwards, seeing the joking expression on his face. He just grinned.

"What the _hell_!" she snapped.

Troy glanced to John. He raised his eyebrows challengingly, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. John's face was emotionless, like usual. He let out a chuckle.

"This isn't over, _John_," He told him, "You're not getting away with assaulting a Lieutenant," he looked to Renee, "See ya RenRen."

Then, without another word, he turned and left from the gym.

Renee watched him go before turning around and shaking her head. Taking a couple of steps, she dropped onto one of the benches and let her head fall into her hands.

"What an asshole," she breathed, raking her fingers through her hair.

John watched her from afar, at first not sure what to do. Now that he knew that what he felt towards her was love, he couldn't help but feel a little more awkward than usual. He felt his anger was still strong – it had spiked when he watched Troy kiss her – but looking at her made him calm down. She did something to him; there was no doubt about it.

Renee was busy wiping her cheek with her sleeve disgustedly when John decided to sit down beside her. The both of them just sat there for a while, not saying anything.

John decided to start the conversation this time.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that." She looked up at him, "If you get in any trouble over this, you have a witness to back you up at least."

"I can handle it," John sighed, "Just like I do everything else. I… didn't mean to do what I did, I just got angry. Lucky I hadn't used my strength on him, or my threats would have been a reality."

"You can actually do those things?" Renee asked quietly.

"Easily," John nodded, "I know from experiences. I killed my first human when I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Renee echoed, looking bewildered, "Just a kid?"

"Just shortly after I received the augmentations," John answered, resting his arms on his knees, "I broke their bones like they were toothpicks. I have to be careful, you know, whenever I'm around people like you."

Renee bit her lip.

"It's frightening, really, to think someone can be that strong," she said, "But… I guess you have to be."

"Hmm."

"What started that fight? I came in when insults were already flying."

"I went to go talk to Dr. Halsey," John said slowly, feeling embarrassed when he met her gaze, "About… something. Troy had been there when I arrived, and when I came here afterwards he started on me, something about bedrooms…"

"He's crazy," she sighed.

"I'm starting to believe that."

"You look upset. Don't let him get to you."

"I'm not," John said with a big sigh, and he turned to look at her, "It's something else. Maybe you can relate." He paused for a moment, and then continued, "Did you ever feel something, that at first, you had no idea what it was? Then, when you found out, you walked away with not much more relief, walked away feeling unsure about what to do?"

Renee looked thoughtful at first, finding herself somewhat taken aback by John's words. She didn't expect someone like him to come out about something like that, especially about feeling something, feeling an emotion, since he always appeared so emotionless and controlled.

"Yes," she answered after a while, "Matter of fact, yes I did. I felt it about…"

"Love," they said at the same time, and instantly Renee's cheeks grew red, and her eyes met his.

"Exactly," she said quietly, her heart pounding.

They looked at each other for a while, not saying anything, although both of their minds were buzzing with thoughts.

"I'm…" John started, his expression looking almost painful, "I…"

Renee sat there, unmoving, feeling butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to look away, down at her feet, perhaps, but something was keeping her eyes locked with his. John bit his lip, furrowed his brows, then he let out a sigh.

"Don't shove me off the bench," he said very quickly.

And with that, in a lightning fast movement, his lips were over hers. Renee instantly felt lightheaded, and felt like _she _was going to fall off the bench. But, as quickly as it happened, John pulled back, looked at her for a moment, seeing her shocked expression.

He got up, his face once again becoming expressionless.

"Sorry," he muttered, heading for the nearest exit.

Renee, whose mouth was hanging open, whipped around, and saw him leaving. She shot up off the bench, and her lips seemed to move and her voice to speak without even having to think about it.

"John, wait!" she called, feeling overwhelmed.

But he had already left the room.


	10. A SPARTAN's Love

**Chapter Nine**

**[March 10, 2535 – Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_**, Slipspace]**

Dr. Halsey walked through the automatic doors onto the bridge, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, her other hand she had her laptop slung under her arm. She was wearing her usual white lab coat, which she had put back on due to the temperature, which had gotten a little chilly. Her long hair was tied in a loose, messy knot at the back of her neck, and a few pieces hung around her face.

Thomsen, who was drifting off in his chair by the control panel, jerked awake when Keira chirped her usual friendly greeting.

"Hello Catherine," the AI smiled as the Doctor walked over to take a seat beside Thomsen, who was trying his best to look alert, blinking off the sleepiness. She set down her laptop on the table, and sat down, coffee mug in hand.

"Hello, Keira," Dr. Halsey sighed, taking a sip of coffee, and hugging herself, "If you wouldn't mind, could you up the temperature just a few degrees?"

"Of course," Keira nodded, "I can't feel temperature of course; Blake here didn't tell me it was getting a little bit chilly, he was too busy drifting off."

"Was he?" Dr. Halsey looked amused, opening her laptop and glancing over to Thomsen, who gave her a weak smile, "You know, it wouldn't kill you to go rest properly in your room, Captain. Especially in our position, we're going to be travelling via Slipspace for at least another few days, or until we get our briefing. It is the perfect time to rest. Our Covenant encounter was just a freak incident. Normally Slipspace travel is a peaceful time to just relax and recoup before we're back into battle."

"Hmm," Thomsen rolled his eyes, and adjusted his hat, "I'm just trying to get back onto a normal schedule, so I'm trying to fight the urge to sleep. I'm usually awake when everyone else is gone to bed."

"I'm pretty sure everyone sleeps weird hours in Slipspace," she noted, sipping her coffee, "Or relies heavily on caffeine as I do. You don't have to worry about it."

It was silent on the dimly lit bridge for a while, except for the technicians' and other bridge workers' fingers dancing over keyboards as they maintained and charted the _Hercules__'_ route. Dr. Halsey turned on her laptop, and skimmed a certain file for a moment, with a dull expression on her face. She finished reading it, then closed it and turned to face the Captain.

"Did John come and see you?" Thomsen asked calmly after a moment, propping himself up with his elbows, "He came by about forty-five minutes ago looking for you. He seemed like he had something important to say."

"He found me," Dr. Halsey nodded, smiling slightly at the memory of her little chat with her Spartan.

"Keira and I both noted that he was behaving a bit strange. Fidgeting while at attention, talking quickly; he also seemed he was very thoughtful, which was unusual for him. Is there anything wrong we should know about?" Thomsen raised his eyebrow concernedly, "He's not ill or anything?"

"No, my Spartans hardly ever take ill. There's nothing happening that I would call wrong," Dr. Halsey sighed, a small smile breaking out on her lips, "Just complicated. John was experiencing some feelings in which he wasn't familiar and had trouble identifying and dealing with them."

"What feelings?" Keira asked, "Sorry if I'm prying, but I'm just curious. I'm aware Spartans have the same emotions as normal humans do, so what emotion might it be that John hasn't experienced yet? I'm sure he's been happy, sad, angry, envious, embarrassed – oh. I think I can speculate."

"You didn't really have to ask, did you?" Dr. Halsey raised her eyebrow, taking a drink of her coffee.

"Not really," Keira chuckled, "In fact, it would have only taken a slight elimination process of course – which I just did aloud, couldn't help myself - but it is only a speculation, but it makes sense. I'm not completely aware of everything about 117, for they don't chart love interests on his military profile."

"Love interests?" Thomsen echoed, clearly not having caught on as Keira had. He looked from the AI to Dr. Halsey, "That's what was bugging John, was it? You're saying that he's in love, for lack of a better word?"

"Indeed," Dr. Halsey said quietly, pushing her glasses up on her nose, "I can trust you to keep this classified. I wasn't really surprised when John came to me, pretty much lost for words on how to describe his feelings. I knew eventually he'd find someone, but I was surprised it wasn't one of his fellow Spartans… like Kelly, or Linda."

"Who's caught his eye?" Thomsen asked.

"Private Renee Kilburn," Dr. Halsey answered, "I've only met her once; from what I seen of her, she seems to be very nice, level-headed and intelligent. A good marine." she turned to ask Keira to pull up her file on the holographic screen, but she already had it done. Thomsen glanced at the picture of the girl and then skimmed over her profile.

"Only nineteen? They keep getting younger – fresh out of high school nowadays, some even dropouts," Thomsen remarked.

"A young face," Keira remarked, "Rather serious-looking in the photo, though."

"The picture isn't up to date. They are always sloppy at this," Dr. Halsey noted with a hint of annoyance in her voice, "This was taken in October of last year. They should know for someone that young their appearance hasn't yet stopped changing."

In the photo, Renee's face appeared to be fuller and childish than it was at the present time, and her hair was cropped short, almost giving her a boyish look.

"Well, this was unexpected," Thomsen replied, "Most marines have left their loved ones at home. John gets to have her with him."

"If anyone can juggle a love interest and fighting a war properly at the same time, its John," Dr. Halsey smiled slightly, "Or any of my Spartans, for that matter. I have faith in them all."

"But I never knew Spartans had soft spots," Thomsen mused, folding his hands on his lap and looking back to Dr. Halsey as Keira closed Renee's file. Dr. Halsey laughed quietly to herself, and shut off and closed her laptop.

"They're not trained to," Dr. Halsey answered, looking down into her mug of coffee, "But, I suppose love is a natural emotion that can't be written out, even out of my Spartans. No matter how hard you try. And it isn't an emotion anyone should be denied."

* * *

John walked down the hallway quickly, his heart pounding in his ears, his adrenaline flying. He was walking so fast, that if someone had happened to get in his way in the moment, he would have easily knocked them over. He glanced back over his shoulder, and saw Renee hadn't tried to follow him.

Renee.

He stopped, and retreated to the side of the hallway, where he leaned against the wall. He allowed his head to fall into his hands, and he ran them through his hair, and sighed, looking up at the ceiling into the fluorescent lights.

The feel of her lips touching his was unlike anything he had felt before. It was like he had been shocked; it had filled him with an electrifying emotion that he hadn't before experienced. It affected him down to the toes, out to the tips of his fingers. He never knew, doing what he had seen before on television and movies and in magazines, would make him feel such a way. Now it wasn't a mystery as to why it was so popular. John perfectly understood now why people did it.

But… had it been wrong? Renee hadn't shoved him, or yelled at him, or shown any signs of disgust like she had when Troy kissed her cheek. She had just looked shocked. John could still see her expression in his mind; it was interesting to think that he could have such an effect on someone by just a little gesture. All he knew is that he had taken a brave step forward; he had followed his instincts, just like Dr. Halsey said he should do. Something within him had told him to kiss her, and he did.

Whether he was good at it or not, John didn't know. He excelled at pretty much everything – even before he had been augmented - but at kissing, that was a different story. Well, he thought, he must have done something right to get such a reaction.

John felt a smile break onto his lips. He was shaking like he had just been through a battle. He looked down at his hands, and judging by the instability of them at the moment – they looked like a couple of leaves shaking in the wind – he doubted, that if he had to, he could hold anything. Now it was apparent that why it would be dangerous in battle. It all made sense – Dr. Halsey's warning had substance.

This was only the first try; John assumed that if the opportunity arose that he could have a second, he wouldn't be the same. Just like trying anything new, the first try was always the most exciting, for you don't know really what to expect. Afterwards though, it eventually becomes a routine.

He chuckled, but something inside his head, his conscience, maybe, was telling him to get a grip. This surely was no way for a grown man – a grown Spartan, to behave. He wasn't meant to be laughing, blushing and shaking. John professionally wiped the smile off his face and clenched his hands into fists.

He had kissed her. That's all that counted, that would say enough, right? That would tell her, without needing any words, that he had feelings for her. Or so he hoped.

Suddenly, Amy came around the corner of one of the adjacent hallways, walking close to the wall, and almost bumped into him. She stopped herself, let out a little startled gasp, but when she saw it was John, she smiled.

"Hey!" she greeted, "Done cleaning your armor, are you?"

John couldn't find words, so he just nodded.

"Did you see Renee?" Amy asked, "She kind of took off…"

"The gym," John croaked, and before Amy could continue the conversation any further, he sidestepped her, "Excuse me, I have to go."

Amy watched after him, a weird expression coming on her face.

"That's odd," she muttered, but she turned around and headed towards the gym.

When she arrived, she saw her friend was sitting on one of the benches, her head in her hands. Amy called to her as she approached, but never got a response.

"Renee?" Amy asked, perching lightly on the edge of the bench beside her friend, "Are you alright?"

From within the mask of hair and hands, she heard Renee laugh.

"I'm absolutely fine," her voice was light and happy, sweet with laughter, which was a relief. Renee sighed and lifted her head from her hands, and brushed her hair out of her face, and met her friend's eyes with a big smile, "Couldn't be better…"

"What's up?" Amy cocked an eyebrow, smiling in confusion, "Why are you so happy? I'm definitely missing something here."

"John just kissed me," Renee announced – the words were barely out of her mouth before she started laughing.

"What? Nice joke!"

"No…" Renee shook her head, and she looked at her seriously, "John kissed me."

"WHAT?" Amy shrieked, jumping up off the bench, staring at her friend with wide eyes, her jaw almost hitting the floor. Renee went to continue, but Amy went ballistic, "Really? How did this happen? What started it? Did he say anything; did he give you a warning? John? You're talking about Master Chief? The Spartan?"

Renee could only nod, and they both laughed together. Amy fell back down onto the bench beside her friend.

"Tell me everything."

"There wasn't much of a warning," Renee said, neglecting to mention the whole incident between John and Troy, "We just sat down, and talked for a little while, and then he asked me about feeling something, I don't really remember. And then the next thing I knew, he said 'Don't shove me off the bench'… and then he kissed me."

"Did it last long?" Amy was quick to snap.

"No."

"Was he good?" Amy asked, giving her friend a wink.

Renee shrugged, unable to look her friend in the eye. She was still rattled by it, she had never expected that John had feelings for her, not once. That stony expression of his could hide a lot, she realized. It had been such a bold move, too, to just lean in and kiss her as he had. The kiss was gentle, yet uncertain – but he hadn't been clumsy. No, Spartans weren't clumsy. It had been fast; his lips had left hers as quickly as they touched, he hadn't lingered, he hadn't missed. It almost could be mistaken for a half-hearted kiss, being so simple and quick – but Renee had sensed there had been motivation behind it.

How it had made her feel – her heart pounded at the reflection of it. Something had sparked within her, in that fraction of a second that his lips had been on hers. She thought of him, his chiseled facial features, so serious, without a doubt rugged handsomeness. She pictured his broad chest, his strong arms, his many scars, and his towering height. He was a hero, a Spartan, a soldier, a man – and possibly, a _lover_?

Amy snapped her from her thoughts.

"I just ran into him in the hallway, he was the one who told me where you were – I thought he looked a little flustered." She put her arm around Renee, "My, I must say I am slightly envious. Do you realize that you are probably the only marine in the entire UNSC that has been kissed by a Spartan? And who would've thought it? I didn't think John had feelings for anything, let alone anyone, let alone my best friend! Did he say anything to you afterwards?"

"No, he got up and left before I had a chance to react, really. He's so fast."

"A kiss and run sorta guy, hmm?" Amy let out a little chuckle, "Ah well, this ship isn't _that _big, you'll run into him eventually. You better start thinking on what you're going to say to him!"

"What _can _I say?"

"Thank you would be a good start," grinned the redhead, "But let him know how you feel yourself!"

"I'm not even sure how I feel, Amy."

"When he kissed you, did you feel disgusted?"

"No."

"No is absolutely right. Something deep down churned, didn't it? That kiss gave your ol' ticker a jump-start."

"Something to that effect," Renee smiled slightly. She still found it hard to believe.

"Actions do sometimes speak louder than words, but do speak to the man. He may be thinking he insulted you, so don't let the kiss become a cause for any awkwardness! He's a catch – reel him in before he stops biting."

Renee felt relieved for Amy's friendship. What would she do without her? Letting out a sigh, Renee laid her head on her shoulder for a moment, and nodded in agreement.

* * *

Thomsen and Dr. Halsey were still seated in the bridge, talking quietly to each other, when Lieutenant Troy Fisher burst through the doors and strutted importantly up to meet them. He stopped, straightened his posture, and gave them a crisp salute.

"Captain, ma'am," Troy acknowledged the both of them with a nod of his head.

"Lieutenant Fisher," Dr. Halsey said curiously, setting down her now almost-empty coffee mug on the table, "What brings you here? Have you any questions about our meeting earlier?"

"No, ma'am," Troy answered, "The meeting was unquestionable, information understandable. Flawless as usual," he smiled slightly but it was gone as quickly as it came, "Instead, I've come to talk to you about your Spartan, ma'am."

"John?" Dr. Halsey asked, raising her eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yes, ma'am," Troy said flatly, "Just shortly after you brought the meeting to a close to talk with 117, I headed to the gym for some exercise. Not long after, I'm guessing right after he was finished talking with you, ma'am, he came to the gym as well."

"Yes?"

"Your Spartan, or John, as you call him, ma'am, assaulted me."

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Halsey asked, her expression altering immediately to one of shock.

"Physically assaulted me," Troy announced, "He was being rather rude to me, and I tried to tell him to mind his rank, when he assaulted me. First, it was a shove backwards. Then he had me pinned to floor, ma'am, viciously making threats towards my life. I do believe, if my memory serves me correctly, he mentioned something about breaking all my bones."

Thomsen looked from Troy to Dr. Halsey, who had gone pale and rigid in her chair.

"Are you sure it was…" Dr. Halsey started.

"John, yes, ma'am," Troy said curtly with a nod, "I'm sure in a couple of hours I'll have some bruises to provide worthy evidence. Now, as a Lieutenant, I have all rights to be the one to decide on the adequate discipline, but I thought you deserve to hear about this incident first, ma'am."

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Fisher," Dr. Halsey managed to compose her face rather well, "But I'm afraid I will need to hear what John has to say. And just a note, Mr. Fisher," she got up from her chair and strode over to him, "My Spartans are trained, have been trained since the age of six by the best military personnel in the UNSC. One of their most important rules they have been told is, when they feel there is a threat towards them, towards their fellow Spartans, towards the marines they are grouped with, or to whoever or whatever they feel they need to protect, they don't need to ask for permission. Instead, they have direct orders to annihilate or disable the threat, in whatever way seems adequate to them. Now, Mr. Fisher, the only reason I believe John would lash out and commit such a thing towards you or any member of our own UNSC personnel, is because he felt threatened."

"Yes, ma'am," Troy nodded, "But I never threatened…"

"Keira, call John to the bridge immediately," Dr. Halsey cut him off, and turned to look at the AI.

"Right away," Keira replied, and a second later they heard her soft voice echo over the intercom, "John-117 please report to the bridge immediately. I repeat, that is Spartan 117, to the bridge."

The AI, afterwards, looked to Troy, and folded her arms on her chest. Troy looked away from her, and looked to Thomsen, and then to Dr. Halsey, who were both looking to him as well.

"I think John will have a slightly different story," Dr. Halsey said quietly to Thomsen, as she sat back down in her chair and took a drink of coffee. Thomsen met her eyes and gave a little nod of his head.

Troy stood there at attention, unmoving, until John arrived at the bridge. He clenched his jaw the moment he heard the doors to the bridge hiss open and heavy footsteps approaching from behind. John came up beside Troy, saluted and gave the appropriate greetings to Thomsen and Dr. Halsey, but didn't acknowledge Troy with even so much as a glance.

"John," Dr. Halsey declared, "I think you know well enough as to why I've called you here."

"Yes, ma'am," John gave a slight nod of his head, "My apologies."

"I'll accept the right apology from the right person when we figure out who started what," Dr. Halsey looked at the two men. Troy and John exchanged glances and looked back at her. Dr. Halsey folded her hands on her lap, "Now John, we've heard Troy's story. Let's have yours."

"Certainly ma'am," John replied, allowing a little smile to come on his lips. He had absolute confidence that Troy had cooked up a lie and conjured his story into one where he made it his fault entirely, and he was also confident that Dr. Halsey had very little belief in the tale.

So he began to tell his account of the event.

"After I talked to you, I went to the gym, and saw Lieutenant Fisher was there," John said simply, "He came over before I even had a chance to get started on my exercises, and started instigating me. Trying to get me angry, insulting the Spartans, and insulting me. It wasn't until he touched my shoulder that I gave him a warning not do it again. However, the insults continued, and he attempted afterwards to grab me the front of my shirt. Now to me, I took this as a first move, a threat. So I dealt with it."

"Hmm," Dr. Halsey nodded approvingly, exchanging glances with Thomsen before turning her gaze to Troy, "I think you left a few details out, Lieutenant."

Troy clenched and unclenched his jaw, shooting a glare to John.

"I might have, ma'am," he said simply, "But it gave him no right to do what he did. I said a few words to him, so what? It's fine for him to throw me to the floor like some barbarian? With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think the likes of _him_ should be allowed to be around normal people, since we are all at risk of doing something that might 'threaten' them and cause them to smash us to pieces!"

"You're just afraid," John growled, turning to glower down at Troy.

"What?" Troy asked in disbelief.

"You heard me," John said, his voice a very dangerous tone. He turned away from him and began to walk out of the room, "But rest well, Lieutenant, I'm not going to waste my strength on you. I've got a lot more important things on my agenda instead of picking fights with my own personnel." He paused halfway out the door, and looked back over his shoulder at Troy, "My advice to you, Troy. Grow up."

Troy looked absolutely dumbstruck, his mouth slightly hanging open. John looked to Dr. Halsey, and Thomsen, and gave them a quick salute. Then he was gone from the room.

"Hmm," Keira remarked quietly from her holographic panel, "Wise words from experienced personnel. He didn't leave much out."

Troy heard the AI, but tried his best to ignore her. He turned to look at Dr. Halsey and Thomsen for support, expecting them to do something. Instead, Thomsen lifted his hat off his head momentarily to scratch an itch, and simply sighed, and Dr. Halsey folded her hands on her lap calmly, looking up to him.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

* * *

"What are you going to say to him?" Amy asked Renee impatiently. They were sitting in the cafeteria at their usual table, having a small lunch of sandwiches and milk. The cafeteria, despite the fact that lunch was being served, was rather empty.

Small clusters of marines were spread out at different tables, and not all of them were eating. Some of them were playing cards, reading, writing, having casual conversations, and other things to try and amuse themselves. Out of curiosity, Amy had found out that all of the cryo tubes were in use, except for one that, when she had asked why, it was for John. So it was apparent that some marines weren't up for spending several more days in boredom.

For Renee and Amy, however, it was no longer boring aboard the _Hercules_. Because of the event that had just recently occurred, they were both filled with uncertainty as to what could happen. Amy showed her excitement a lot more than Renee did.

"I don't know," Renee answered, playing with the straw in her carton of milk, "Look, this was all so sudden… I don't really know what to think. I'm not sure what else to do besides that I should talk with him. I guess I'm still really, really, shocked. I just need to talk with him…"

"Well you must have at least an idea of what you could say."

"I really don't! Like I said, it was so unexpected. What I'll say will just come… naturally… I suppose."

"It'll have to, won't it? Oh, by the way - did you hear John get called to the bridge a few minutes ago? I wonder what that's about. Maybe they found out he kissed you and they're gonna discipline him for it."

"No, I don't think so," Renee sighed. She looked down at her half-eaten sandwich. She knew exactly what John had been called to the bridge about, she could feel it. She knew Troy Fisher must have had a part to play; he'd gone to issue his complaint about what had happened in the gym. Now she hoped that they wouldn't listen to whatever crap Troy must've spilled out to them, and hopefully that John would get away scot-free – after all, Troy had been the instigator.

"Give them a few minutes," Amy answered quietly, "To talk to him or whatever they're doing. Then you're going to go find the man and talk to him; I can come with you if you want."

"Thank you, but I think I have to do it myself, Amy," Renee declared solemnly, "Besides, you being there would only make it more awkward; no offense."

"None taken," Amy twirled her hair around her finger, "I want to see a smile on your face, though. John kissed you. I always thought you two would make a good couple."

"But this isn't about couples! I don't think I can afford to get in any relationships with anybody - we're in the middle of a war. Love only clouds your mind and narrows your field of view. I was with Troy for how many years, I know what it does. I can't be off daydreaming on the battlefield, that'd be a fast ticket to getting killed. This is what I don't get, John is a partan, one of the few people that can give humanity a chance in this war. He has such a huge weight on his shoulders, I would be nothing but a burden to him, and I know that. We marines slow him down enough already; he doesn't need to be worrying about me and me getting myself killed – which can easily happen."

"Renee…" Amy started, her voice coming out small.

"I admit, I've grown to care for John, a caring that could easily turn to love," Renee set down her milk carton down, "Ever since I got to know him..."

"Renee!" Amy interrupted once more, and Renee's face contorted into one of annoyance. She was about to ask what on earth she was doing, but that's when she realized Amy wasn't looking at her. She was looking past her.

She felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing cold water over her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, and turned around, knowing there was one of two possible people standing behind her.

She looked up, and her face instantly went white. It was John.

"Oh God," she breathed; tearing her eyes away from his. Her face started to get color back, red flushing into her cheeks, and she quickly got up from the table, darted past him and sped out of the cafeteria as fast as possible.

John had heard every single word she had said, and they had mostly a positive effect on him. She spoke the truth – basically what Dr. Halsey had warned him about. But John, he was determined to not allow that emotion to overwhelm him. He was certain he could love and do his job at the same time. He could protect Renee, protect Amy, protect his marines, and protect Humanity all at once. That's what his job was; he was part of a group of the best soldiers in the UNSC. He was trained to fight, trained to protect.

He looked to Amy, who calmly folded her arms on the table, a little smile on her face, her green eyes sparkling mysteriously. She almost looked like she wanted to jump up and start dancing around. John didn't guess twice that she knew what was going on. Renee had probably filled her in on every little detail.

"Advice?" John said quickly, glancing anxiously back over his shoulder at the door Renee had ran out of, and then back to Amy.

"Go get her," she grinned, giving him a wink.

John stood motionless for a moment, but then he smiled slightly.

"I'll see you," he gave her a nod, and then he turned around and jogged out of the room.

Amy smiled to herself, raising her eyebrows and picking up her sandwich. She glanced around the room, making sure no one was paying much attention. When she was certain no one was, she threw down her food, and hurried out of the cafeteria after John, not wanting to miss the show.

* * *

'Kolsamee stood on the edge of the cafeteria, invisible, of course. He watched as the red haired human darted past him into the hallway. His translators had picked up most of the conversation, and he had found it very interesting. He made sure he saved a recorded message to send to 'Malnoonee.

From what he had gathered, he learned there must be some sort of affection brewing between the Demon and this Renee girl. This made 'Kolsamee eager to contact 'Malnoonee as soon as possible. This was getting better and better. Now, 'Kolsamee was sure that the girl must be becoming more than just a companion to the Demon. She was becoming a love interest.

'Kolsamee clicked his mandibles thoughtfully. On his home world, most Sangheili were permitted to marry, except those in the Special Forces. This included 'Kolsamee. However, not being able to marry wasn't much of a concern to 'Kolsamee, it had never appealed to him. However, he knew what love was. He knew what human love was like, too . He had slaughtered countless of pathetic humans who had clung to each other in fear, not wanting to leave their loved ones.

Humans would go to crazy lengths to protect those they loved, including giving their lives for the sake of their family or partner. Noble creatures in that fashion, but as far as 'Kolsamee was concerned; they were still dirt beneath Sangheili feet.

The Demon may be different, may be stronger, smarter, but he was still human. He would, no doubt, go to extremes if something horrible happened to his dear, dear, Renee. Extremes that would compromise his position, make him lose focus; weaken him, so that he could easily be defeated.

'Kolsamee chuckled softly to himself. He couldn't wait for 'Malnoonee to give him the go-ahead, to initiate this whole plan, and ultimately destroy the Spartan for good.


	11. Renee & John

**Chapter 10**

**[March 10, 2535 - Halcyon Class **_**Hercules - **_**Slipspace]**

Renee walked down the hallway as fast as her feet would carry her, her heart pounding wildly in her ears, and her breath hitching frantically every few seconds. Her face was red; she didn't have to look into a mirror to find that out. She looked back over her shoulder almost constantly, to see if John was following her. She had a feeling deep down that he was. What would she say to him if he caught up with her? Wait, when, not if. He would catch up with her, she knew. If he wanted to catch up with her, he would. There was no stopping him.

She was so out of breath that she had to slow down, but she slowed only a little. That's when she looked over her shoulder again, and saw John come around the corner after her. She whipped her head around and continued walking, quickening her pace once again. She heard his strong, commanding voice echo down the hallway after her.

"Renee, stop!" even with two words, she could tell by each one he was growing closer. His long strides were superior to her own, and judging by the footsteps she could hear very clearly, Renee knew he was nearing.

"I never intended for you to hear it," Renee spoke loudly, not looking at him. Her voice however, failed her, "Forget you ever heard…"

"No, listen to me," John's voice was right behind her now, "Stop."

She felt his large hand grasp her upper arm, encircling it completely. His hands were warm against her skin. He pulled back ever so gently, but it was enough force to make her stop dead in her tracks. With a flick of his wrist, he had her spun around to face him, holding her in place, his hand on her arm like a vice.

Renee bravely looked up into his eyes, which seemed to be carrying more emotion than she ever recalled seeing before. For a moment, she didn't say anything, but she was eventually able to locate her voice.

"Look…"

"No; listen, hear me out. If you're mad at me, I'm sorry," John started; however, Renee cut him off abruptly.

"I'm not mad at you," she replied in a whisper, shaking her head. She touched his arm gently, feeling his muscles rock-hard beneath his shirt, which was something she had always wondered what would feel like.

John exhaled slightly, relieved to hear it. He let go of her arm, and reached up and took her little hands in his own weathered ones, and brought them up between them. He looked down at her hands, her skin almost as pale as his own. He gently caressed her skin with his thumbs. It was the softest thing he'd felt in a while.

He let out a little chuckle.

"Your hands are so small," he remarked. His mind felt hazy; he wasn't even that sure what he was doing, or why he'd felt so compelled to touch her like he was doing now. He glanced up to Renee's face, and saw her cheeks were predictably red.

"Your hands are huge," Renee replied quietly with a little laugh, looking back down. She allowed her hands to grow limp in his own, and he closed his hands around hers, squeezing ever so faintly, before letting go. Glancing down, as if he'd been unable to control what he'd done, he apologized.

"Sorry… I…" he started.

"It's fine."

They met each other's eyes again. Somehow, John's face had grown closer to hers.

"You heard what I was saying back there?" Renee predicted.

"Every word," John answered, smirking, although his face didn't match the smirk. His eyes were gentle, his face muscles relaxed. He looked so calm, so… fascinated… an expression Renee thought couldn't exist on his features.

"I shouldn't have said…" she started quietly, but John put his fingers to her lips in a lightning fast moment. She stopped.

"But you said it," John replied, taking his finger away to hold up her chin instead – he felt some hesitance, but her dark eyes never left his, "And you made something hell of a lot easier for me."

"What might that be?"

Instead of answering, John bent his head, his lips meeting hers. At first it was gentle, and Renee cherished it, the softness of it, then the spark ignited between them. Without a warning, John shoved her against the wall, deepening the kiss, and Renee instinctively reached up and managed to wrap her arms around his neck. The kiss was passionate, yet clumsy, and both of them were eager, yet nervous, letting new feelings take over them as they got lost in the kiss, lost in the feelings, a sweet heaven that took them to a temporary place, away from the war, away from everything to a place where it was just them and that's all that mattered. This world was abruptly shattered when a cold, unfamiliar voice reached their ears.

"How _sweet_."

John pulled back, and Renee gave a little gasp of surprise, and they instantly jumped apart, and turned to face Lieutenant Fisher, carrying an expression brimming with sarcasm, his mouth wrenched into a bittersweet smile, his eyes cruel.

"Sir," Renee saluted him, her voice wavering, "I didn't see you there."

"No, you wouldn't have, would you?" Troy sounded anything but amused. His eyes locked with John's. It didn't take a scholar to notice that their hatred for one another must have grown exponentially from the fight in the gym and the issue on the bridge that followed. They stared at each other for a long time, a dead beat of silence accompanying it; finally, Troy spoke, addressing them both.

"Spartan," a quick raise of the brows; then his features softened, "Private Kilburn."

Renee swallowed a lump in her throat, looking nervously at him. She'd known Troy since they were children, and the expression he wore on his face at this moment she'd seen more times than she could count, she knew he was far from being pleased. She could tell right there and then that this _wasn't _going to end nicely.

"Now can one of you tell me, I don't particularly care which," he began lowly, his voice filled with malice – and on cue, "What the _hell _do you think you were _doing_?" It ended in a bellow that echoed down the hallway and cut through their ears.

She sputtered something unintelligible, her brain abuzz, and her lips felt like jello. She wasn't able to look Troy directly in the eye, and she bowed her head shamefully.

"Ah, Kilburn, thank you for offering. I expect an answer," Troy snapped harshly.

"I…" she began, clenching her hands into fists nervously, "I…"

"Answer me, Private!" It was a yell that caused her to cringe backwards. John, upon seeing her cower away, felt like taking Troy by the scruff of the neck and firing him down the hallway so hard he would go through the wall. However, with a polite, unnoticeable cracking of his knuckles, squeezing his fists and releasing them, John made that urge pass.

He could've damn well done it though, very, very easily, and so quickly Troy, nor probably Renee would have known what happened until it was over and Troy was lying on the floor in his own pool of blood with his head smashed in.

What violent thoughts he was having today!

However, he snapped back to the present when he heard what sounded to be a little sob come from Renee. Her eyes looked to be brimming with tears as she tried to keep a hold of her slipping composure. Sniffling, she shook her head,

"I don't know, sir," she finally choked out.

John's eyes snapped to Troy, who met his glare with a little smirk on his face.

_Yes, take Fisher by the hair and smash his head off the floor until it looks like a cracked egg._

"You don't know?" Troy's voice grew softer, he didn't distance his face any further from Renee's, it was close as if he was going to tell her a secret, "Oh, but dear Renee, I think you do know. You lost grip on where you are – a refresher course might be needed, I think they shipped you out too early from the Academy. We are fighting a war…"

John didn't hear the rest of Troy's lecture; he became too focused on trying to control the rage that was building up inside of him. He was seriously contemplating taking Troy and chucking him, when heard footsteps behind him.

Amy dove in between Troy and Renee, sputtering a colorful array of curses as she passed them. John had no doubts she had not been far away, watching the whole scene.

"Ah, Private Smythe," Troy continued calmly, "Nice to see you."

"You just love exercising your bountiful authority, don't you, LT?" the redhead demanded, "You have no right to grill John or RenRen, they were doing nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong when it comes to your low standards, Private."

"It twists the knife, doesn't it Troy, to see them together, to see them happy? Here you are harping on about expectations, and you're the one allowing jealousy to fuel and manipulate your desire to discipline."

"If that's what you'd like to think, be obliged."

"Thinking is one thing I don't need your permission for, asshole."

A smile formed on Troy's lips, a smile that commonly surfaced as of late.

"If I hear one more disrespectful word out of you, Smythe," he announced, staring her down, "I can go to my office, fill out a few papers, and as soon as we exit Slipspace, I can send you and Kilburn packing and have your asses on a flight back to Earth within twenty-four hours – the words 'general discharge' bolded in your files. Do I make myself clear?"

Amy, although unwavering to his threats before, wasn't going to take chances. This was the first time he had mentioned having them discharged, an action he could do as easily as he'd said – filling out a few papers. She had no choice but to nod.

"Good," Troy sneered, "Fall in."

She did, and now Troy, having the three of them under control, folded his arms calmly behind his back and looked at each one of them individually.

"This is despicable behaviour. I don't know how far I'll have to drill it into your heads - especially you two," he looked to Renee and Amy, "That we are in the middle of a war. Breakdowns in the rules are unacceptable. Smythe, you clearly disregard my rank and think you can say anything you damn well please to me. Kilburn, you also have a high disregard for my authority and are much like your friend when it comes to speaking to me. And 117…" Troy paused to glare intently at him for a few minutes, "You too, seem uncaring, if not oblivious to my rank of Junior Lieutenant, which you clearly demonstrated in the bridge – in front of Dr. Halsey and _the Captain_, of all people, when you gave the so-called wise advice for me to 'grow up'. Also, let's not forget that you assaulted me in the middle of a public area with intent to harm, and… it looks to me like you have been trying a different type of assault on Kilburn."

Amy fidgeted, looking like she wanted to shout something, but she didn't dare. She looked to Renee, who had suddenly grown pale. Amy looked back to Troy.

"What kind of assault, sir?" she snapped.

"Don't be stupid," Troy raised an eyebrow, "Sexual assault?" he looked to John, "Do you understand what _that_ means? No wonder Kilburn's on the brink of tears."

"No," Renee spoke up, her voice calm. She met Troy's eyes, "Don't even go there, Troy."

They looked at each other for a long time, and Renee could see by the expression on his face, that Troy's eyes were almost questioning, carrying a certain element of disbelief. She'd seen it before, when she'd first ran into him after enlisting, cheerily telling him she'd joined up. He'd looked at her with the same expression that he wore now, and he didn't need to speak to have her understand it. Troy's behaviour suddenly became undeniably clear. She knew.

"LT, defying someone of higher rank, mouthing them off and assault are all against the rules, but don't try and tell us that love is too," Amy spoke up, "There is nothing that says UNSC personnel can't have affection towards one another, in relationships or otherwise. That'd be like saying we can't be friends, either."

Troy blinked, as if he just tuned in to what she'd been saying. His expression hardened.

"For Christ's sake, you're all dismissed, get the hell out of my face," he muttered quickly, waving them off.

John, Renee, and Amy exchanged surprised glances, but fell out of line and gladly started to walk off, happy to be released from Troy's seemingly never-ending grasp on them – but he'd let them go, and rather quickly, too, as if he couldn't wait to be rid of them. They could feel his eyes on their back as they left, as if he was eagerly waiting for them to be gone from his sight.

Renee almost jumped out of her skin as she felt John's hand come to rest on her shoulder; his mouth was suddenly next to her ear:

"Are you alright?"

Numbly, she nodded, giving him a small smile of assurance. Still feeling Troy's eyes on her, she was compelled to look back at him. She did; he hadn't moved from the spot he'd been standing in when they told them to leave – he wasn't facing them at all now. At that exact moment however, he turned and their eyes met. His eyes burned intensely with an unmentioned emotion, and she felt unable to keep his gaze for long. Quickly, she looked away. She couldn't help but feel that all along, if she had been losing Troy Fisher - he was definitely lost to her now.

At the same time, she felt she was walking away from her past, and into a new part of her life. Troy had been her past, her old love that had lasted for well over five years, and now she was starting a new love, with John. She had a feeling this would be more promising, and John wouldn't walk out on her like Troy had. She knew it.

* * *

On the bridge, Dr. Halsey was busily typing away on her laptop, and every once and a while, mentioning something to Thomsen or Keira. Thomsen was drifting in and out of consciousness, a couple of times he even got to snoring, but however, Keira would always wake him with her voice whenever she'd chirp something to Dr. Halsey.

So far, it had been a fairly dull day. Aside from having the incident with Lieutenant Fisher and John, things were moving by pretty slowly. That's the way they seemed to go whenever they were in Slipspace, not that days could be accurately counted to exact hours, anyway.

"John got pretty aggravated at Lieutenant Fisher, didn't he?" Thomsen asked sleepily. Even he was calling him by his real name now.

"Hmm," Dr. Halsey answered thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off her computer screen, her fingers flying across the keys, "Normally John is good at controlling his anger, and in this case, he didn't. This leads me to believe that Fisher probably had it coming beforehand, and John had probably confined his feelings until they exploded. Luckily, he didn't decide to do anything physical. Intimidating as it is to believe, John could easily overpower us all. If he had wanted to, he could have easily lived up to his words of breaking all of the Lieutenant's bones."

"Do you think there's a danger that it might happen?" Thomsen asked.

"There's always a slight risk," Dr. Halsey answered, "There's always a slight risk for everything, Blake. If Fisher continues his pestering, he might wind up with a broken limb."

"Well, I don't like conflict between our own personnel," Thomsen replied, "And if it keeps up, I'll have to ask you to tell John to go into cryo, because as much as he deserves a break, if there's trouble being caused because of him, he can just as easily have a break in cryo sleep."

"Really, Captain?" Dr. Halsey looked at him, "If anyone should be made to go to cryo, it would be Lieutenant Fisher. He strikes me as someone who's awfully negative…"

Suddenly the both of them were distracted as Keira interrupted them.

"Sorry to interrupt, but, I've just received a message from the UNSC_ Corinth_!" she cried excitedly.

"Open it." Thomsen ordered, sitting up straight in his chair.

"Right away," Keira answered, and within a second, the message popped up on the holographic screen. It read:

**-START FILE****—**

**MARCH 10, 2535 ****–**** SENT 18:53:19 HOURS **

**FROM: CAPTAIN PETE WILLIAMSON, UNSC **_**CORINTH**_

**ADDRESSED TO: CAPTAIN BLAKE THOMSEN, UNSC **_**HERCULES**_

**CAPTAIN MATTHEW SCHULTZ, UNSC **_**ONE HOPE**_

**CAPTAIN JACK RIMMEL, UNSC **_**ACHILLES**_

….

**[****CLICK TO EXPAND LIST]**

**STATUS: CLASSIFIED**

**At approximately 15:21 hours, in the Lacertae system, a Covenant Assault Carrier, going by the name of **_**The Domination**_**, has exited Slipspace 2.1 light years from the planet Lacerta and her surrounding colonies. **

**It has been estimated that a fleet of over 100 ships have rendezvoused since that time. There is very little hope for Lacerta, as they****'****ve already started glassing. Lacerta has a population of 3,000,000. **

**All ships respond immediately.**

**[****CLICK TO RECEIVE EXACT SLIPSPACE CALCULATIONS]**

**- END FILE ****—**

Thomsen let out a breath, as Keira closed the file. He looked to Dr. Halsey, who had gone pale. Although receiving reports of colonies under attack had become common within the last few years, you always felt the same reaction: anger, sadness, and above all, hopelessness.

"_The Domination_, isn't that the ship that attacked us?" Dr. Halsey said quietly, looking to Thomsen.

"Yes," he nodded solemnly.

"Plans, Captain?" Keira asked almost impatiently.

"How far are we from the Lacertae system?" Thomsen demanded, standing up to begin pacing the bridge. He rubbed his temples thoughtfully.

"If we continue in the Slipspace void, exactly 1 day, 4 hours, 24 minutes and 30 seconds and counting," Keira replied, "The recipients of the message have been arranged by their closeness. We're at the top, which means we're the closest vessel."

"Chart our course for the Lacertae system, Keira," Thomsen said lowly, "Let's hope we can get there in time."

* * *

Back in the cafeteria, Renee and John were being pummeled full-force by Amy's questioning. She, like John had predicted, had witnessed the whole scene from afar – more than Troy had. And she had no guilt mentioning that she snooped on them, in fact, her chest was almost swelling with pride as she chattered on.

John and Renee sat across the table from her, both of them looking tuckered out from the interrogation. She had made the move to take his hand in hers, and although his hand was tense, he allowed her to hold it beneath the table. John, Renee noticed, even though they could be considered as in a relationship, was still quiet as he had been before.

She had expected him to open up a little, but he still said few words, and his default expression held main command over his features. However, he would smile a little more, whether it to her or Amy, but the smiles, she noticed, most of them appeared to come onto his face unnaturally. He wasn't used to it, she realized, so the smile ended up looking like it was almost painful. It looked almost like his face wasn't elasticized, but John couldn't be blamed.

Everyone knew the rumors; he had been trained since six years old. While other children were outside playing with their friends, laughing, smiling, spending time with their families, John had been on Reach, running through obstacle courses, learning how to shoot weapons, and strategizing with his fellow trainees.

There hadn't been many opportunities to smile.

"So, what are your plans after the war?" Amy asked, her voice almost too bubbly, to a point where it was borderline annoying, "I'm going to go home and finally get married to Wayne, although he'll probably be an old geezer by then, and me, having been in space for so many years, I'll hardly look any different!"

"How can you think that far ahead?" Renee retorted, "The war's been on for ten years, what's stopping it from going on for another decade or two?" She despised her own response, but it was the truth. Not to mention she wasn't in the best of moods, despite her current situation. "It's not like we're winning, anyhow."

She looked down to her milk carton, which she disregarded now because it the milk had gotten warm. It was suddenly very inviting to look at, for she could feel both Amy and John's eyes on her.

"What suddenly made you so negative?" Amy asked, appearing almost shocked, "A week or so ago, you would have said we were winning."

"We're not," Renee played with her dog tags, sliding them back and forth along the chain, "I have a feeling, Amy. It's not good."

Below the table, Renee felt John's grip on her hand grow even more tense.

"What the hell?" Amy cried, "What's up with you? There isn't any damn excuse for your negativity, RenRen. So smarten up before I whack you one."

Renee smirked and laughed slightly, and glanced at John. He was studying the table, not looking at anything in particular. His furrowed brows and narrowed eyes told her he was in deep thought. She gave his hand a little squeeze, but she knew it wouldn't be a "squeeze" to him. He probably hardly even felt it, but he felt something and looked down to their intertwined hands and up to her eyes.

There didn't seem to be any right words for the moment, so she just smiled. John returned it fully, showing his teeth, and she knew it was a real smile. He looked so handsome when he smiled, she noted mentally. He always looked so gloomy with that half-frown on his face.

"Back to exchanging smiles?" Amy put in her two cents worth, "I think it was more entertaining when you two were exchanging spit."

"Oh, Amy," Renee retorted, a laugh mingling with her voice. She reached across the table and threw a playful punch at her friend's shoulder. She hit her target, and Amy recoiled back, saying "Ouch" pretty loudly, some marines to look in their direction.

Renee turned to John, who looked amused.

"Did you get that?" she asked.

"Oh he got it," Amy dismissed Renee's words with a laugh and a wave of her hand, "Didn't ya John? You know what swapping spit is."

"Want some?" John asked, keeping his face absolutely serious. He picked up her empty milk carton, and spit into it, then held it out to her, a smile breaking onto his lips, "There you go."

Amy looked at the milk carton in he was holding out to her, then up to John.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, looking at the milk carton as if it was some sort of diseased object, "Renee, you can have it."

John set down the milk carton, and laughed aloud, causing Amy to instantly look at him in utter awe.

"You… laughed!" Amy declared, pointing an accusing finger at him, "He laughed…" she looked to Renee, "Did you hear that?"

"Of course he can laugh."

Suddenly, the loud speakers in the room buzzed to life, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look up at them expectantly.

"_This is the Captain speaking_," Thomsen's calm voice came over the intercom, "_Just shortly, we received a message from the UNSC __Corinth__. They have informed us that the Lacertae system is under Covenant attack, and we are going to their aid. We are one of the closest ships, so we will arrive in little more than a day. I will be briefing you later tomorrow afternoon, and I expect you all to be ready for defending the colony. Shine the vehicles, load your weapons, get cleaned up and get a good sleep. That is all_."

It was silent for a moment, but then the cafeteria erupted into a buzz as everyone started talking at the same time. Renee exchanged glances with John, and Amy.

"Well, at least we'll have something to do," Amy shrugged, "Another planet to defend," she looked to John, "You can do it, sir! It's good that you shined up your armor today when you did, you saved yourself some work."

John didn't reply. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth a firm line.

"John?" Renee asked, concern floating in her voice. He let go of her hand and got up from the table.

"Kelly and James are on Lacerta," he said lowly, before leaving, "Excuse me."

"Kelly and James?" Amy echoed, "Who the hell are th…"

She stopped when Renee shook her head, warning her not to continue.

"They're his fellow Spartans," she said quietly, "I'm going to talk to him."

Renee got up quickly and left the room. Amy sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair, but smiled slightly.

"Yeah, go and _talk_ to him. Make it a good conversation," she called after her.

* * *

Renee was surprised how far John had gotten by the time she had left the cafeteria. John was at far end of the hallway, and was taking a right, which she recognized was the direction to the officer's quarters, where his new room was located.

She paused for a moment, deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to follow him to his room, but she shook her thoughts away and broke into a run to catch up with him, her dog tags bouncing off her chest, jingling. As she ran down the hallway, she didn't notice as she passed Troy, who glared after her, his face very solemn looking.

"John!" Renee called, rounding the corner. Up ahead, she saw the last of John disappearing into his room, and she quickly jogged up to the door, which was almost closed. Upon her arrival, though, the motion sensors detected her and it hissed back open.

John, who had barely had enough time to walk over to his locker, turned around in a quick blurred movement. When he saw who it was, he let out a little sigh of relief and let his body relax. Renee stood in the doorway quietly, not sure what to do. They looked at each other for a moment.

"You can come in," John said finally, turning around and opening his locker door, "I don't bite."

Renee walked timidly across the threshold into the room, as the door hissed shut behind her. John's new room was larger than her own, but only slightly more decorated. It was still simple. For a moment, she contemplated remarking about the room, but the time didn't seem that right for that.

"Kelly and James, they're Spartans, aren't they?" she asked bluntly.

John paused from rooting in his locker, and turned around to face her.

"Yes," he answered, his facial expressions showing that Kelly and James clearly meant something to him, "They're part of my team."

"I thought so."

"I shouldn't be worried about them," John sighed, "But as their leader, I have to be. It's my duty, even though I know they have no issues fending for themselves."

"There's nothing wrong with caring for your teammates."

"It's nerve wracking sometimes; they're under my command, and they're my friends too. Now I have you and Amy."

"You don't have to worry about us."

"_Yes_, I do."

"No, you don't - don't you see, that's I said earlier in the cafeteria; I'm just another person for you to carry about. Look, I care about you, but I think it'd be too much worry for you to care about me back. If something ever happened, to either of us…"

"Don't say that." John snapped, seriousness filling his voice. He stepped towards her, almost looking threatening. He clenched his fists, looking suddenly wild, "I don't want you to hear that come out of your mouth again."

Renee looked at him uncertainly for a moment, unsure of his words. John let out a deep breath, and unclenched his fists, allowing blood to flow back into his fingers. He looked at her for a while, until he repeated, "Nothing is going to happen to either of us, I promise. I don't want you to say that ever again…" he walked closer to her, and then snapped his arms out, grabbed her by the upper arms, and pulled her close to him instantly, and Renee let out a little gasp, but John leaned down into her ear and whispered, "That's an order, Private."

He pulled back to look into her eyes, and Renee could see his expression had softened again, but she didn't have much time to analyze the fact, because he kissed her fiercely, and she melted against him, forgetting about everything else. Her knees felt weak, but she knew he could hold her up.

They kissed for a long time, with the satisfaction and knowing that they wouldn't be bothered in this room, no Amy would be watching, no Troy would come along. They were alone.

John pulled back after the longest time, looking into Renee's eyes for a while. He brought his hand up to touch her face, as if to make sure she was real. Assured, he kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, her lips, then huskily muttered in her ear, a laugh mingling in his voice:

"I think I'm getting addicted."

Renee smiled, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. She stood there motionless, closed her eyes and allowed John to plant kisses all over her face, her heart pounding in her ears. She'd never thought this would happen. Just a couple of days ago, she had barely known John – and it happened that fast, they'd fallen that fast. She'd never expected it, and if someone were to go back in time and tell her that she'd realize she loved Spartan John-117, she would've told them they were crazy.

Crazy indeed, this all seemed. John had seemed like such an introverted individual, a master of controlling both expression and the emotion that provoked it; she would've never guessed underneath his mask of a hardened soldier, all those scars, bruises, his rugged face, that there was a heart that was very much susceptible to human emotion, a big heart, a heart that allowed him to love.

Love was without a doubt, something new to John, that much Renee knew. It was clear he had never known love, never felt it before.

Renee studied his strong features, craning her neck to do so – the straightness of his nose, his thin lips, piercing dark eyes and that mysterious scar beneath his eye. She wondered how he got it.

"I hope you can forgive me," he said unexpectedly.

She let out a small laugh.

"For what?"

"My inexperience," John was perfectly serious, "I'll get better, I feel I need to prove to you how much –" a thoughtful pause, " –I care for you. I may not be good with words, but know this, I've never felt this way before Renee, and I can't help but feel I'm walking blind. If I'm doing anything wrong, tell me, correct me. I want to be good at this; I want to treat you as you deserve…"

Renee smiled.

"You're doing just fine."


	12. Rise & Shine

**Chapter Eleven**

**[March 11, 2535 - Halcyon Class **_**Hercules –**_** Nearing the Lacertae System]**

There was a loud beeping that slowly drifted into John's dream, and aroused him from his sleep. He opened one eye, and looked down into his arms at Renee, who was snuggled close to his chest. She was still sleeping peacefully. So they had fallen asleep, he realized then - they hadn't intended it. He wondered what time it was now - the middle of the night, or early morning? John let out a little groan of discontent as the beeping continued, and he looked to the bedside table, and he saw the noise was coming from his pager, which had been assigned to all higher ranking personnel. It allowed people from the bridge and other areas of the ship to contact them when needed.

He extended his long arm and fumbled for the speaker button on the top, and he found it, but not before almost knocking the pager off the table. When pushed, the noisy thing let out one loud beep, and he heard brief static, and then he mumbled drowsily, "John-117."

Renee stirred briefly, but she just snuggled closer to him. John smiled slightly at her unconscious gesture, and then looked up to the pager, waiting for a response.

"John, finally!" he eventually heard Keira's soft yet impatient voice, "We've been trying to reach you for at least an _hour_!"

"What? What time is it?"

"We've exited Slipspace… its 11:45 hours."

"Oh no," John groaned, sighing slightly. After a moment of bowing his head in utter disappointment in himself, he muttered, "Thank you, Keira."

"You're welcome, John. As soon as you're up and bright eyed and bushy tailed, we'd like you to report to the bridge. Dr. Halsey wants a word with you. You'd better double-time it, everyone's way ahead of you. Over and out."

John sighed, and flopped back onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. Well, at least he had a long history of being woken up unpleasantly, so it wasn't that bad. He briefly recalled his first day in boot, where the trainers had woke all the Spartans with stun batons.

He sat up, throwing back the blankets, although careful to not throw them off Renee, who looked too comfortable to disturb yet. John quietly, and stealthily as possible, crawled over her and leaped lightly onto the floor, which was cold on his bare feet. As he quietly opened his locker door, and began rummaging for a uniform – he was just in a pair of sweatpants – he began to think about the night gone past.

He and Renee hadn't done anything _wrong_, John was almost sure of it. They had kissed for a while, and talked a normal conversation for he didn't know how long. If anyone happened to find out Renee had spent the night in his room, he knew they'd assume one thing that wasn't as innocent – something that they hadn't done.

John knew all he had to know about _that _subject, but something last night had held him back from going that far, probably the fact that he didn't have a sweet clue if it was even allowed in these circumstances – not that it really suited the situation anyhow. He doubted it, and realized that if something would get out amongst the others, that it would probably be viewed as a scandal and give a bad name to Renee, himself, and his Spartans. John was threatened enough by what Dr. Halsey would think, not to mention what Lieutenant Troy Fisher would go around saying.

Besides, Renee hadn't made any mentions or suggestions about it last night anyway. The both of them had been content to just lay there, talk, get to know each other better, exchange light kisses.

Maybe… just maybe… if this war ever ended… and there was nothing holding them back…

John chuckled to himself, shaking his head disapprovingly at his wandering mind.

"What's so funny?"

He turned around and saw Renee was awake, looking at him curiously with her eyebrow raised. Her hair was slightly tousled.

"Nothing," John answered, wiping the smile off his face, "You should get up. It's 11:45 hours."

"What?" Renee cried, throwing back the sheets and jumping out of bed, "Oh no! How could this happen? I've never slept this late in a long time…"

She stretched, and then adjusted her shirt that had been a little twisted. John turned back to his locker,

"I've never slept this late in my entire life."

Renee laughed slightly, and hugged herself, the room a little on the chilly side. She felt slightly out of place and embarrassed, like she was in the way, or like she didn't belong in John's room. She really _didn__'__t_ belong. She just hoped that no one, besides Amy, would find out that she had ever fallen asleep in the same bed with John, because others would be quick to assume other events had occurred.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said awkwardly.

"Neither did I," John agreed, finally deciding on a garment and pulling on a grey muscle shirt, "But, I don't regret it. I had a good sleep."

"So did I," she nodded in a small voice, but then added solemnly, "We can't let anyone know this happened."

"I know," John's face grew serious, "Especially someone associated with Fisher. Even though it was only sleep, if the information gets out, it could easily ruin reputations." He turned fully to face her, "Not even Amy can know."

"John, I trust Amy with my life; besides, she can speculate where I am. She won't tell a soul."

John sighed, but nodded.

"We've exited Slipspace," he explained, "All of the other marines are probably way ahead of you; you need to hurry and get suited up. As do I, but first I need to report to the bridge. So, I'll see you later."

He took a step forward, leaned down and gently kissed her cheek, then pulled back. Renee looked up at him, seeming reluctant. He gestured with his head to the door.

"That's an order," he said with a little smile.

"Sir," she smiled, and then she turned and walked out of the room, cautiously at first, making sure there was no one around – and there wasn't, so she hurried off.

* * *

'Kolsamee watched with interesting anticipation as the door to the Demon's room opened, and the human female named Renee walked out. She looked in his direction, but couldn't see him of course, since he was stealthily tucked back against the wall, his invisibility cloak providing him wonderful cover.

He could grab her right now, break her neck and start a fight with the Demon right at that instant, but of course, he hadn't been able to contact 'Malnoonee. As he watched the human girl run past him and down an adjacent passage, he realized this was the best evidence yet. She had no business being in the Demon's room, unless she had slept there, and Humans just didn't sleep with one another without a given reason. It wasn't like there was a shortage of rooms. Renee had spent the night in the Demon's room, because they obviously shared a relationship and loved one another.

'Kolsamee had also picked up the fact that the ship had recently exited Slipspace, and they were nearing the Lacertae system. 'Malnoonee's Carrier, _The Domination_, was causing havoc to yet another Human colony, leading a rather large fleet to battle. Either 'Malnoonee had taken a chance, or he knew that the _Hercules_ would be one of the ships to come to the "rescue", if you could call it that.

The Sangheili chuckled to himself, knowing their pathetic efforts would once again prove themselves useless against the Covenant. Perhaps they would be able to defend the colony for a few days, because of the Demon, but he knew the planet would fall none the less.

He was so excited that he decided to give his headset a try – they had exited Slipspace after all – and they were nearing closer to _The Domination__'__s_ current location. At first, he only got loud static, but then the channel cleared.

"'Malnoonee?" 'Kolsamee whispered in his Sangheili tongue, "This is 'Kolsamee, come in."

"'Kolsamee," 'Malnoonee's deep voice came back not seconds later, "Good to hear from you."

"Likewise, Shipmaster."

"I'm assuming the_ Hercules_ is on her way to Lacertae," 'Malnoonee chuckled.

"Indeed. How is the destruction going?"

"Wonderful. These Humans and their pathetic efforts make me laugh, they've only got a small amount, say about four dozen ships, and they're dropping like flies. From what I've heard on the ground, they're putting up a better fight… mediocre, but fairly well. However, there's an explanation as to why. There are more of _them_."

"Them?" 'Kolsamee echoed.

"The super soldiers - just like the one you're studying_._"

"How many?" 'Kolsamee was floored, the thought of other humans like the Demon made him sick, "I only thought there was one…"

"Two have been sighted," 'Malnoonee answered angrily, "Although I have a feeling there are more… maybe not on this planet, but on others. These two are slaughtering our troops with the force of a thousand Marines."

"Would it be wise to let another join the fight?" 'Kolsamee asked, "I have gathered some very interesting news that could cripple my Demon very easily."

"What news?"

"He's romantically involved."

"They aren't… automatons?" 'Malnoonee sounded bewildered.

"No, there's a human beneath that armor," 'Malnoonee replied, "A very powerful human, goes by the name of John-117… and I have been watching him closely, and he has recently acquired himself a romantic interest, she's just a normal human. Tiny and weak compared to him. I almost killed her before."

"That is _very_ interesting," 'Malnoonee replied, "So this John… he's in love with her is he?"

"Yes," 'Kolsamee answered.

"Get off the _Hercules _with them at Lacerta. Blend in, disappear for a while, and wait for the opportune moment, then kill the girl, kill the Demon, and kill anyone else in the way."

"Of course," 'Kolsamee nodded, "I will carry out this mission with absolute pleasure."

* * *

John strode onto the bridge, with his usual expression on his face, although he allowed a little emotion of apology to show through, because as much as he enjoyed his lengthened sleep with Renee, he was also ashamed for letting himself sleep in that long. Keira was the first to greet him, as usual.

"Hello-o-o there, sleeping beauty!" Keira cat-called amusingly from over on her holographic panel, and she received a generous eyebrow raise from John as he walked up in front of the Captain and Dr. Halsey and gave them a crisp salute.

"Sir, Ma'am," he said with a polite nod. He still hadn't woken up completely; it was like the lengthy rest was bogging him down. He felt really drowsy, but wasn't about to let that feeling portray itself into his emotions.

"Good morning," Thomsen looked amused from Keira's comment. However he then looked to Dr. Halsey, who didn't look the least bit humored, and he put on his poker face and folded his hands on his lap. John looked to the Doctor, who didn't speak for a moment; she adjusted her glasses on her nose, and gave out a little sigh before beginning.

"John," she announced, her voice brimming with annoyance. She uncrossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt, "You know what I am going to ask, so spare me asking the question and give me the answers."

"You have my sincere apologies, ma'am," John made sure to put extra emphasis on his words, "I guess I enjoyed my rest too much, and slept in."

Dr. Halsey craned her neck to meet his eyes, and something about her expression made John realize that she already knew it just wasn't a case of sleeping in. John swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat, but kept his eyes on Dr. Halsey. Suddenly he was afraid that she would mention something about Renee.

"Sleeping in is an understatement, John," Dr. Halsey replied sternly, "Not once in your entire career as a Spartan have you ever slept past 6:30. Are you feeling alright?"

"Perfectly well, ma'am," John nodded, still seeing that look in her eyes, "I apologize."

"I accept your apologies," Dr. Halsey's voice softened, "Just please don't let it happen again. I expect you up at normal time from now on, regardless the _situation_. All the Marines have showered, eaten breakfast, and have reported to the Docking bays, and we are incredibly close to the Lacertae system. You have fallen behind greatly, which would be expected perhaps of a newbie, but you are no newcomer, John."

"Yes, ma'am," John kept nodding, "I understand, ma'am."

Dr. Halsey looked a little sympathetic, but surprised John when she got to her feet, and began walking to the other end of the bridge. She motioned frailly for him to follow. John felt his heart begin to pound, but his legs moved stiffly, and he followed her over to the farthest corner of the bridge.

Did she think he had…

"Was Renee involved with your sleeping in?" she asked in a whisper, looking up at him sternly.

"…Yes, ma'am." John sighed, flexing his fingers nervously.

"Did you sleep with her?" Dr. Halsey asked lowly.

"Yes, ma'am."

Dr. Halsey looked shocked for a moment, but then she said even lower.

"I mean did you _sleep_ with her?" Dr. Halsey put emphasis on the word "sleep", and John understood fully now, she was referring politely to… well what John had been expecting.

"No, ma'am."

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief, and folded her arms on her chest casually, and looked back up to him.

John cleared his throat.

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

"No, of course not," Dr. Halsey said softly, "Spartan II's are completely able to… reproduce. It's just that I never thought any of my Spartans would have the opportunity, let alone the want to."

John tried to speak, but he couldn't find the right words.

"If ever you want to, there's a risk, John," Dr. Halsey continued, her voice growing stern, "The previous Spartans, many of them had children – with each other, with other Spartans. You're in love with a normal human girl… with no genetic augmentations. Genetics, as you certainly know, play a huge role in reproduction. I have no idea what would come of your genes being mixed with hers. I'd have to try experiments, research, because with an unknown outcome… the results could be either a marvel to science or a deformation. Until I have gotten a chance to conduct some research, if both of you wish to have intercourse," she paused momentarily, and saw John's face remain unchanged, like stone, "I would recommend using contraception."

"Ma'am," John could only sputter that one word and salute like an idiot.

"Now, everyone is way ahead, go get suited up and report to the Docking Bay, they'll be awaiting your arrival," Dr. Halsey explained, seeming as eager to move on from the previous conversation as John did.

"Right away, ma'am," John gave her a little smile, and then he turned and left the bridge quickly. On his way out, he heard Keira call cheerfully:

"See you later, sleeping beauty!"

John made it out into the hallway, and paused for a moment to exhale the big breath he had been keeping lodged in his lungs. He glanced back at the doors to the bridge, and then shook his head in disbelief. Dr. Halsey's little private conversation with him had sent him for a loop – he hadn't even asked for her explanation. However, he laughed in spite of himself and hurried to the armory.

* * *

Renee jogged into the Docking bay, dressed in her battle attire, with her helmet tucked beneath her arm. She had tried her best to be as quick as possible, but she knew it wouldn't make much of a difference. Quickly, she noted Troy and a couple of other Lieutenants were taking charge, barking at Marines, giving orders and really, doing not much more than that.

As she made her way down the stairs to the wide gaping area where all the Warthogs were parked, and the ammo and weapons were being dealt out, she tried to make it into the crowd of marines without being spotted by one of the Lieutenants.

With her luck, however, Troy saw her as soon as she began to descend down the stairs. He whistled at her, like she was some kind of dog, and waved her over. Renee let out a sigh and trudged over to him, throwing her arm up in a sarcastic salute.

"Where in the hell were you, Private?" Troy demanded immediately, narrowing his eyes.

"I slept in," she answered truthfully.

"This isn't a damn bed and breakfast, for Christ's sake, you were noted _yesterday_ that we would be entering the Lacertae System and you should have been up at 6:30 sharp at the latest!" Troy started, not making any personal references to her, for he was under the watch of a couple of Senior Lieutenants, "Do you have any idea what time it is? Almost noon, dammit! This is unacceptable behavior, Private. Drop and give me twenty. One handed. Right now."

Renee looked at him, her eyes wide. Troy damn well knew she wasn't good at one-handed push-ups, and she realized that this was his punishment to her, not just for being late, but for being with John. Oh, it made wonderful sense now.

"Lieutenant, sir," she started to protest lowly, "If this is about…"

"Don't object, Private! I gave you an order!" Troy shouted, "Don't make me push it up to fifty! On my count, go."

Renee sighed, and looked to her right, and saw a lot of the marines watching her. She picked out Amy's sympathetic face in the crowd, before she dropped to the floor, folded one hand behind her back, and began doing pushups.

"One… two… three…"

Troy's annoying voice made the push-ups worse. On her fifth one, Renee felt her muscles burning, and her arm began to shake under her weight.

"Six… seven … eight…"

Did someone light her arm on fire?

"Twelve… thirteen… fourteen…"

Renee was almost certain that she was going to collapse. Oh, she thought as he continued to count and she continued her torture, Troy was definitely the most miserable bastard in the UNSC. He was watching her, she didn't have to look up to know that he had a little smile of satisfaction on his face, he was getting his revenge. That revengeful, miserable, son of a …

"Lieutenant Fisher," a familiar stern voice interrupted Troy's counting. Renee let herself drop to the floor, and saw a pair of green titanium boots right by her face. She smiled, and craned her neck to look at John's face, which was now hidden behind his orange visor.

"Yes, Spartan?" she heard Troy snap back irritably.

"I think you are being a little hard, she's done enough. Get up Private Kilburn."

Renee gleefully got to her feet, clutching her arm, which was still burning fiercely. Although she couldn't meet John's eyes, she flashed him a grateful smile. However, when she turned to look at Troy, she saw that he had a miserable look on his face.

"You're late too, Master Chief," Troy said mockingly, "What should I make you do? Bench-press a couple of warthogs?"

"Wouldn't be a problem," John answered, "But, considering we're going into battle, it wouldn't be a very professional thing to do. You, of all people should realize that. Instead of burdening Kilburn here with one handed push-ups, you should have allowed her to go collect her necessary weapons and ammo."

Troy's face, although it didn't seem possible, scrunched up into an even more miserable contortion. He didn't say a word, but just turned on his heel with a huff and marched over to join a Senior Lieutenant, who was shouting at a few marines who weren't moving fast enough for his liking.

Renee looked up to John's visor, rubbing her arm.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't mention it." was John's reply, and with it, he moved his gloved hand up to his visor, and traced a curved up shape along it where his mouth would be. Renee clued in instantly, realizing it was his way of showing her he was smiling. She decided to imitate him, although she had no reason to.

"It's called a Spartan smile," John informed her with laughter dancing in his voice, "I see Amy over there, go join up with her."

Renee nodded, and gave him a quick salute, her lips breaking into a smile. She then turned and ran over to Amy, who was turned away talking to a couple of other marines. She impatiently tapped her on the shoulder.

"Oh," Amy turned around and greeted her friend with a smile, "Hey! Troy gave you _another_ hard time, I see."

"But John saved me from collapsing," Renee replied with a grin, and the both of them turned to look at John, who had joined up with a cluster of officers, including Troy, who was noticeably making an effort to stay far away from him. John towered over all of them, and stood there straight and proud, but also in a way, he looked casual.

"He's awfully mysterious in the armor," Amy remarked, "After seeing him normally so often. It's sexy though." She paused for a moment, and then gave a sideways glance to Renee and said lowly, "It's not just a coincidence both you and John are late, is it?"

Renee narrowed her eyes slightly, a little smirk playing on her lips giving away the answer. Amy jumped excitedly, but calmed herself quickly after a few marines standing near them gave her an odd look. She clapped her gloved hands excitedly,

"So, tell me!" it sounded very difficult for her to maintain the whisper she had going, "What happened? You weren't in your room this morning; you stayed the whole night… I know it. Did you guys do it?"

"Do it?" Renee repeated, a dull look appearing on her face, "No."

"Why not?" Amy cried, her voice getting whiny, "Do you ever know how to take advantage of a situation? It would have been the perfect opportunity to…" she trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief, "Tell me at least you guys _fooled_ around a little."

She winked after this.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no."

"Oh my god!" Amy held up her hand, "What the _hell_ are you? Don't tell me you believe in the sex after marriage thing."

"No, I'm not religious," Renee rolled her eyes.

"Then what's your problem?" Amy looked like she wanted to strangle her, "If I were you, I would have totally jumped on him and just..." she stopped when Renee gave her a weird look, "Sorry. I mean… just I'm confused here."

"John didn't want to."

"What?" Amy looked almost offended, "You're a beautiful girl, why wouldn't he want to? You don't have enough muscles or something? Did he tell you right to your face, 'No I don't want to have sex with you'?"

"No…"

"Ah!" Amy exclaimed, looking crazy, "Do you know anything about men? They want you do something too… it's not like you can sit there on your ass and expect them to know what you want… trust me, they're clueless. You have give 'em hints, ya know… like… when John was kissing you, you could have moaned a little or something – that really gets 'em going…"

"Amy!" Renee cut her off, "I didn't ask for advice, okay? We didn't have sex. Get over it. You're being a little creepy."

"Jeez, sorry, I thought you could use some tips," Amy rolled her eyes and sighed, "Because I know you're still an innocent little goody-two-shoes. You never did it with Troy – I don't blame you, he probably would have turned into some abusive creep - and your previous boyfriends were a bunch of wimpy fruits. Now, you've got a _real_ man. Look at him!" she gestured to John, "He's everything you could ever need, he's sweet, he's sexy, he's smart, he's ripped… not to mention he's Humanity's hope for survival! There's no reason why you shouldn't do him. You two are a perfect match… it's so cute! I mean he's huge, and you're tiny – opposites attract, you know." She beamed after this, proud of her speech.

"I'm not tiny," Renee replied with a frown, ignoring the rest of Amy's rant.

"You're five foot what, five?" Amy raised an eyebrow, "That's tiny compared to everyone else."

"Thank you," Renee smiled falsely.

"You're welcome," Amy smiled back.

They both turned when suddenly Troy yelled across to them.

"Get your asses moving!" he shouted, "Get your damn weapons and come over and fall in!" he gestured to an already well formed line of marines. Amy muttered something under her breath, and she led the way over to the weapons table. She snatched up a pistol and three clips and tucked them into her belt, then took an assault rifle and several clips, jamming them into the various pockets on her vest.

Renee did the same, although she took a few more clips than Amy did, for she wasn't sure how much they would need. She had always been paranoid of running out of ammo. That's what always seemed to happen in her dreams, and she would always get killed.

She put her helmet on afterwards, and followed Amy to the line, where they fell in. John stood in front of them, along with the couple of Senior Lieutenants. He was going to divide the marines into teams – one of the Lieutenants, who was nicer than Troy could ever think of being, gave him permission to do so.

"Alright marines," John addressed them all, "As you are aware, we are about to engage in a huge ground battle. Lacerta is under heavy Covenant invasion, and it's obvious that our job is to kill them. Now, we won't be alone, but we won't be as well accompanied until the other ships arrive. For the lot of you who have doubts, don't. I will rendezvous with two of my fellow Spartans when we get there." John paused to allow the marines to cheer, "Now, we will be split up into teams, Alpha Team, Beta Team, etc. I will announce your name, and the team that you will be in will be your backup, your companions, for the rest of this mission. I don't want any complaints, you are here to defend Humanity, and I expect all of you to do it with the utmost maturity and pride.

"Now I will announce the marines who will be accompanying me, on Alpha Team. They are as follows: Troy Fisher, Renee Kilburn, Amy Smythe, Josh Hamlin, Kirk Ronstadt, Blaine Kilmer, Luke Diller and Henry O'Riley. Now, those who will be accompanying Lieutenant Boudreau on Beta Team are as follows…"

John continued in this fashion, all the way to Theta. Finally, after all the names were called, he announced, "Now, will you please gather into your assigned teams with your Leaders."

The marines all fell out and hurried to get into their teams. Renee and Amy quickly went over to John, along with the others, including Troy, who looked borderline happy. He got paired with his fellow friends, Josh, Blaine and Kirk, but the fact that he was on the same team with Renee, Amy and John brought his mood down immensely.

He quickly stood beside his friends, making sure there was one on his either side so he wouldn't have to stand beside Renee or Amy. John turned to his Alpha Team, and smiled behind his visor. They were all good marines, even though it might be a challenge to try and deal with Troy, who, with no doubt would try to be the leader.

"No one has complaints?" he asked.

"Not a complaint, but a question, sir," Amy spoke up quickly.

"Yes?"

"Did you pick these teams?"

"No, Private."

"Oh," Amy shrugged, "Okay then, just wondering. Well it's an honor to be on your team, Master Chief." She winked at him, "You can kick some serious Covenant ass!"

Everyone, except Troy of course, muttered an agreement or nodded. It was true, they were all very lucky to be on his team.

Renee looked at John's visor, and had no idea who or what he was looking at, which made her slightly frustrated. It would calm her to be able to look into his eyes, and see his assuring expression. Surprisingly, she felt good about this mission. Maybe it was the fact that John would be with her, or maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, she was sure that this mission would be _somewhat_ positive.

She looked to Troy, surrounded by his goony friends. They _were_ excellent in battle, she could give them that, and Troy, despite his crankiness, was a good tactical thinker.

John was better though.

"Now, are you all ready?" John asked, slinging his assault rifle over his shoulder.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Everyone but Troy answered.

"We're in Pelican 0-76," John gestured with his hand, "Let's get a move on, double time!"

The rest of the team ran ahead, but Renee lingered behind to wait for John. Renee suddenly felt nervous, and wanted to hug John, but she knew she couldn't.

He walked up next to her, and paused.

"Is there something the matter?" he obviously saw her worried face.

"I'm positive about this and all… but I'm nervous. I always get nervous," she looked down to the assault rifle in her hands.

"Renee," John said quietly, "Don't be."

He swiped his finger across his visor. Spartan smile. She couldn't help but smile back.


	13. Arrival

**Chapter Twelve**

**[March 11, 2535, - The Planet Lacerta, Lacertae System]**

Eight Pelicans zoomed from the _Hercules__'_Docking Bay in single fashion, led by Pelican 0-76. They soared down out of the upper atmosphere, going through a layer of thick, puffy white clouds. The cloud cover began to thin, until they finally dissipated altogether and they got a clear view of the land below.

Lacerta had a sub-tropical climate, making the air humid. Rain was a common factor for this planet's weather - thus where cities didn't stand, lay miles of lush green forests, lagoons, snaking rivers, and miles of white sand beaches. The large, gaping ocean, which made up nearly eighty-five percent of the planet, had a beautiful blue-green color.

When Pelican 0-76 reached a safe altitude, the back hatch swung lazily open, offering John and his squad of marines a wonderful view. Far off in the distance, the ocean could be seen, but currently they were flying over deep green forests. Birds could be seen flying, clustered together, heading in the opposite direction the Pelicans were heading.

"It's so beautiful," Renee whispered, watching the scenery as it flew by, and she glanced to John, who didn't bother being seated, as he stood almost at the very edge, gazing somewhere down at the scenery. He glanced up, unbelievably quickly due to his suit – in one swift movement that was almost a blur, past her, then towards the pilot's cockpit.

"No wonder the birds are flying away," the pilot said grimly, "I spot two Covenant Assault Carriers up ahead, just over the large part of the city."

"Have they begun glassing?" John had sped down the aisle and was peeking over his shoulder in an instant.

"It doesn't appear so, sir," the pilot answered.

"Huh," John remarked to himself, turning around and walking back down to the aisle, swinging his assault rifle as if it were just a toy, "Strange, I thought they would."

"They're waiting for us, that's what," Troy spoke up, leaning back casually in his seat, setting his assault rifle across his lap and folding his hands on his chest, "They're not stupid, they'll wait until we've been dropped off, and as soon as Spartan starts kicking ass, they'll radio in to their carriers and we'll all be fried like meat left unattended on the BBQ."

"True enough," Josh snorted, "Either that or we're gonna lose the planet to them and get out just in time, like Capricornia."

"It's a shame," Amy added in her two cents worth, "This planet looks so nice. It'd be good for a vacation."

"In a couple days it won't be," Kirk snapped, giving her a look like she was stupid.

"Where's the morale, team?" John said lowly, a warning floating in his voice, "I want it up, not down under our feet. That's an order."

"I would say you _can__'__t_ order me around, but…" Josh muttered to himself, trailing off as he got to the end of the sentence. Blaine guffawed randomly, and John looked at Troy's trio, realizing that they were more or less like Troy in one way or another. With Josh, it seemed to be the defiant and arrogant attitude, Blaine, the immaturity, and Kirk, the rudeness.

The other two marines John weren't completely familiar with were Luke Diller and Henry O'Riley. They sat beside one another, and they looked to have a certain air of maturity tat Troy was lacking. One was a Private, the other a Corporal, and John guessed they weren't much older than he was, if they were at all. They didn't seem really annoyed by Troy's posse, but they didn't look pleased about them either. Decent soldiers with selflessness, discipline, they knew when to keep their mouths shut. At least Renee and Amy weren't completely alone.

"Good to see some reinforcements!" a female voice came over the radio of the Pelican, and Renee watched as John's head snapped around as soon as he heard it. If his helmet had been off, she guessed his face would have been surprised.

"Who's that?" Amy muttered, but Renee shushed her.

"Yes, we're on our way," the pilot replied.

"You happen to have Spartan-117 with you?" the voice asked.

Everyone turned to stare at John, who felt happy. He was smiling, though no one could see through his mirrored visor. He knew that voice, it was Kelly. He hadn't spoken to her or any of his Spartans since the battle of Jericho IV. Dr. Halsey must have contacted her somehow and told her he was on his way.

"Yes, I do," the pilot answered, glancing back over his shoulder to John, whose stance was somewhat eager looking.

"I bet he can hear me," the female voice replied, "John, James and I will be there to meet you as soon as you touch down. Kelly out."

"James and Kelly?" Troy asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow at John, "Care to fill us in here, Master Chief?" Sarcasm was heavy on the usage of his rank.

"Two of my fellow Spartans," John leaned back against the wall of the Pelican, "They will help us in the battle."

"More Spartans?" Kirk asked with a whoop, "Great, now we'll be kickin' some serious ass!"

However, Troy gave him a jab in the ribs, shooting him a death glare. He didn't look the least bit thrilled to find out that there would be more of those tall armored freaks like John meeting them at the rendezvous point.

"It's good news," Luke said cheerily with a nod, giving a weird look to Troy before looking to everyone, "We've really got a hope now."

"John is excellent at what he does," Renee announced with a smile, "Now that James and Kelly will be joining us, I have faith that we can win this battle. Anything is possible if we try hard enough and set our minds to it, right everyone?"

"Well said," Henry agreed, and everyone else's expressions – besides Troy's of course – carried an agreeable expression.

Renee glanced to John, who was looking in her direction, and she assumed he was looking at her. She received a nudge from Amy, and she turned around to face her friend, who looked proud.

"Lieutenant Kilburn," she whispered lowly with a wink, "Motivational much? Well said is right, that's more morale boosting in a few sentences than Troy's done in a week. If anyone ever suggests you to be promoted, you'd have my vote."

Amy leaned back from her friend's ear, and saw Renee was smiling slightly, almost looking like she was going to laugh. Satisfied, Amy turned and looked to Troy, who was slouched in his seat, glaring at her. She gave him a challenging look, a quick raise of her eyebrows and a saucy expression on her freckled face.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a loud soaring noise from outside, the Pelican was shaken violently, and a loud explosion tore through everyone's ears. An alarm went off in the cockpit, and the pilot was quick to fill everyone in.

"Banshees! They got us good… I'm losing the main engine!"

Renee felt all color go from her face, and she looked to Amy, who looked panic stricken. Everyone looked at each other in silence for a second, and then at the same moment, everyone went into action, talking all at once, and panic threatened to overwhelm them.

"Can we jump!" Troy demanded.

"Not unless you want to die," John replied, his voice surprisingly calm. He looked down to the ground, which was two hundred feet below, "Everyone stay calm, strap yourselves in… we're going in for a crash landing. Do it n…"

John was cut off when the Pelican lurched sickeningly to the side, dropping quickly. He grabbed onto the wall for support, but almost everyone was thrown out of their seats.

"Shit!" Amy screamed, scrambling to put her helmet back on her head, as everyone struggled to climb back onto the seats, but the Pelican was starting to pull some Gs as it began in its plummet towards the ground. Renee looked out at the view, which had disappeared and all she could see was sky and black smoke billowing behind them from the engines.

"We're gonna die!" Blaine cried, "We're going in too fast…"

"No we're not!" John shouted, "Hold on!"

The Pelican hit a high tree, causing it to jerk crazily through the air, still plummeting. It lurched to one side, threatening to barrel roll. John heard the choking engine as the pilot was no doubt trying to keep her level. Suddenly, out of the corner of John's eye, he saw a movement, and then a scream, and to his horror, he saw Renee _fall_ out of the Pelican.

He didn't think twice. He heard Amy scream "No!" by the time he was already airborne. He dropped like a lead weight, and he looked down, and saw Renee falling, several feet below him, she was screaming hysterically.

John made his body the most streamline. He was just close enough - he reached down, and grabbed Renee's arm and pulled her, gravity was insanely against him, but he managed to get her into his arms. He heard her gasp as she realized he had caught her.

"We're going to die!" she screamed hysterically.

"Hold on," John said loudly over the sound of the air rushing past them as they fell together, "This will be slightly uncomfortable."

They crashed into the canopy of the forest below, and Renee screamed again, as they tore through, branches scratching and pulling at them. As they dropped, John tried to shield her best he could from the branches, knowing they could injure her.

"Here it comes," John said, sounding rather calm.

Calm? How could he be calm?

They hit the ground, John landing feet first. He gritted his teeth, feeling the shooting pain that shot through his legs, and they instantly gave out, and he crashed to the forest floor, hitting hard, knocking the breath out of him. Renee rolled off of him, breathing heavily, blood running down her face from a scratch.

"John!" she cried, instantly realizing that he might be dead, "John! Please tell me you're okay!"

She forced herself to get up, and she leaned over him and took off his helmet, and threw it aside onto the ground. His eyes were closed and dark red blood was running out of his mouth.

"No!" she shrieked, feeling tears coming alongside with hysteria, but John's eyes shot open and he gasped, air filling his lungs. The gasp caused him to choke on the blood, though, and he rolled onto his side and coughed it up.

"Are you okay?" Renee demanded, looking at him in horror. She was dumbstruck. She knew that a normal person could have never survived such a fall. But the two of them were sitting on the ground as if they had just fallen a few feet, almost completely unharmed. That's what she didn't believe.

She was fine, except for a few scratches, but it didn't seem possible that John could be okay. He was bleeding from the mouth, but looking at it from a logical view, John should have shattered bones and internal bleeding. He should be _dead_.

"I'm fine," John sat up, his forehead trickled with sweat.

"How is that possible?" she shrieked, tears running down her face, from fear and just overwhelming adrenaline from the event of falling roughly two hundred feet from a Pelican and living to tell the tale, "How is it possible? You'd be dead right now! You should be dead! We both should be dead!"

From a distance, they heard a loud crash, and John looked from her to the direction of the noise.

"The Pelican," he said lowly, and then he looked to her, "It'd take a lot more than a fall to kill me. Calm down. We might be alive, but let's just hope everyone on our Pelican is."

He got to his feet, grabbing up his helmet and putting it back on. Renee weakly got to her feet, feeling her stomach churning sickeningly. She wiping away the tears, and looked around for her assault rifle. She spotted hers and John's not twenty feet away, and went over and picked them up in silence, and handed John his gun.

"That's the second time you saved my life," she said softly.

"I wasn't about to let you die," John replied, putting his assault rifle back onto his magnetized part of his armor on his back, "Let's find that Pelican. Sling your assault rifle over your shoulder, and get on my back."

"I can walk perfectly fine…" Renee answered in a small voice, although she slung her rifle over her shoulder anyway.

"Yes, but you can't keep up with me," John turned his back to her and bent down, "I'm going to run. Get on my back."

Renee hesitated, but she jumped on his back, and he linked his arms under her knees and hoisted her up, and rose to full height. She screamed slightly, not used to being seven feet in the air, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, the armor cold even through her clothes.

"Hold on tight," John instructed, "This will be a little fast."

In four strides, he was going faster than Renee had ever believed was humanly possible. The forest was just a blur as he navigated his way through the trees.

"You never told me you can run _this_ fast!"

"You never asked." A pause as he leapt over a small stream, "Spartans can run just about forty miles per hour."

He dodged wildly to the right to avoid a rather large tropical tree. He then leaped up onto a boulder and balanced himself there, pausing for a moment. They both saw smoke billowing through the trees. The crashed Pelican.

* * *

Amy was hysterical when she saw Renee fall out of the Pelican – and John jump out after her. She had almost jumped after them both, but she resorted to screaming.

"They're going to die!" Amy cried, looking around hopelessly at everyone else. Troy looked horrified, but after a second his face hardened.

"We're going to crash! Brace yourselves!" he shouted.

Three more seconds rushed by as they plummeted, and then there was a loud tearing noise as the Pelican tore through the trees, breaking branches. The windshield smashed out, sending glass flying back into the passenger's compartment, shards cutting everyone's arms and faces. Breaking free of the trees, there was a sickening feeling for a brief few seconds where the Pelican was in dead fall, with nothing to stop it. Everyone covered their heads with their hands as the Pelican did a nose dive, right into the ground.

The impact sent everyone flying forward, and as the Pelican leveled, everyone wound up in a heap on the floor. It was silent for a moment, except for the sound of a flickering fire outside.

Amy pushed herself up off the floor, and looked around, trying to wipe off disorientation. She saw Troy was staggering to his feet.

"Is everyone alright?" he called, and there were murmurs from everyone, including the pilot.

Everyone, one by one, untangled themselves and got weakly to their feet. Kirk rushed outside, and dropped onto the grass on his back, gasping for air. Josh, Blaine, Luke, and Henry looked dumbstruck, and they stumbled out of the Pelican, all of them finding a place in the clearing to flop for a rest. Amy felt a shooting pain in her wrist as she stood up, but she ignored it and walked out of the Pelican in a daze.

She wondered where John and Renee were… if they had survived, or if they were injured somewhere, lying on the forest floor with broken bones. She felt a lump in her throat, but fought it back, and looked to Troy, who was limping slightly, clutching his helmet under his arm. He had a large cut across his cheek, and looked particularly somber.

He met her eyes.

"Alright, Smythe?" he asked quietly, looking back to the smoking, smashed Pelican.

"Yes, sir," she answered, not bothering to mention her wrist, which was hurting like hell.

"Better off than your friends, hm?" he answered bitterly, "Everyone, as soon as we feel up to it, we better start looking for Kilburn's body – the Spartan's too."

"Do you think they're really dead?" Henry asked, "I mean, he probably saved her!"

"No one can survive a fall from that height," Troy replied with certainty, "They're dead."

He paused, and looked past Henry, and his eyes widened. Everyone looked in the direction Troy was and there was a dead silence that fell over the group, as they watched John, with Renee by his side, come walking out of the forest. John's armor was covered in scratches, Renee had leaves in her hair and cuts on her face, but they were alive.

"Impossible," Kirk whispered.

"Amazing," Luke breathed.

Everyone stared in bewilderment as they walked over to join the group, not saying anything. Amy was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Both of you have damn good luck," she announced, although her voice wavered. It was hard to believe that they both were alive. She lowered her voice and looked to Renee, "You'll have to tell me later."

Renee nodded slightly, and glanced up at John, who wasn't making any moves to do anything. She wondered if he actually might have hurt himself and wasn't saying anything. John struck her as the kind of person who would be too proud to declare that they had been hurt in any way. The blood that had come out of his mouth wasn't just random, she knew that, but if he was injured at all, he wasn't about to let on.

"Well," Troy raised his eyebrows, and paused for a moment, thinking of appropriate words, "It's good that you're both alive – it saved us a trip from scouring the forest for your mangled bodies." He looked to the rest of the team, "Now we obviously have no flight out of here, so I think it would be best that we try and rendezvous with the rest of our men. You know where we were going?" he asked the pilot.

"Of course, sir," the pilot answered, "We were almost there. We need to walk eastwards at least a mile or two and should reach where our designated team was to call base camp."

"Well we better get moving," John declared, beginning to lead the way out of the clearing in the direction the pilot mentioned, "Before the Banshees come snooping around looking for any survivors. Move it, team. Double time!"

The team hurried to catch up with him; Renee and Amy following close behind John. Josh joined up beside Troy, as he walked calmly but quickly after the rest of the team. He looked to Troy, whose face was scrunched up with anger.

"You ok, LT?" Josh asked, eying him curiously.

"I think I'm going to kill that Spartan before this mission is over," Troy simply growled, and he picked up pace, breaking sync with Josh, who sighed and gave a shrug.

"Good luck," he murmured after him.

* * *

As they walked, Renee studied John, staying close behind him. Amy was glued to her side, and she prattled on about how she was amazed that they had survived the crash, and how John had jumped out of the Pelican right after she had fallen. Renee didn't really listen, for she was still in a daze from the ordeal. The memory of her fall out of the Pelican seemed to get already foggy – it happened so quickly and had ended just like that. Both she and John were fine like nothing had happened.

She was fine. John, though, she wasn't so sure. It wasn't that apparent at first, and Renee had thought it was the uneven ground, but the longer she watched John walk the more she realized he was limping. It wasn't that noticeable, but she knew John was probably fighting back the pain to try and make it look that way.

"… We smashed into the ground with insane force – the windshield shattered, even; we all ended up in a tangled dog pile…" Amy was saying, but Renee elbowed her, whispering her name quietly. Amy stopped talking and looked at Renee, clearly annoyed.

"What?"

"Look at John."

"Yeah, he's attractive, I know. So what?"

"No! Look at his left leg, he's limping."

Amy raised an eyebrow, but watched John in silence for a few minutes.

"He is," she agreed, "From the fall?"

"He told me he was fine," Renee said lowly, "but when I took his helmet off after we fell, he had blood running out of his mouth, Amy. I think he's hurt and not telling anybody."

"A little limp - he probably just hurt his ankle or something. This is John you're talking about here. He wouldn't have jumped out of the Pelican if he knew he was going to shatter his bones or something."

"You think?"

"Of course I do," her friend answered with a little scoff. She rubbed sweat off her brow and batted at a mosquito that was buzzing around her head, "I like this planets tropical climate, but there's one problem. It would be wonderful if we were all on the beach sipping cocktails, but not when we're hiking through the fucking jungle in full combat armor!"

"Keep alert back there," John hissed suddenly, "Amy, we're hiking through a fucking jungle in full combat armor, and in this fucking jungle, there could be an alien behind every bush."

"Sorry," Amy muttered quickly, and she glanced to Renee and raised her eyebrows, "Was it just me or did John just seem cranky?"

Renee nodded, and then she quickened her pace to walk alongside John.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly, looking up at him. Gently, she reached over and touched his arm. He must have felt it through his armor, because he moved his arm away.

"I'm fine." He didn't even look down at her.

"I don't think you…" she started, but he was quick to interrupt.

"I'm _fine_," He snapped icily.

He wasn't fine, he knew that – but he wasn't about to announce it. It seemed that every bone in his body was aching – it was almost like how he had felt when he had been recovering from his augmentations. Every footstep sent a shooting pain up through his legs – but he wouldn't tell anyone. It was nothing; really, he should recover from it within a few days. There was no need to get Renee worrying about it. He wasn't fine, but he would be fine – just give it time, he thought.

* * *

When Alpha Team arrived at the designated base camp, they had only begun setting it up. The Pelicans were aligned on the far left of the camp, and everyone was bustling to unpack the makeshift tents and weapons. With a quick count, John found out that Pelican 0-76 had been the only one to crash. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Dr. Halsey had always said out of all the Spartans, he had the best luck, but why was it him that always seemed to be on the Pelicans that crashed or blew up?

The Senior Lieutenant that was in charge of Beta Team, was quick to approach their team as they emerged from the trees. John allowed Troy – who was quick to run up to the leading position – to explain everything and assure him that everyone was fine and besides the loss of a Pelican, there wasn't anything tragic. He noticed that Troy neglected to mention Renee falling out of the Pelican. Troy just didn't want him to get any glory of saving her life _again_, John mused.

As he was thinking, he was suddenly rushed. John whipped his head around just in time to see two green blurs come flying towards him – one faster than the other – and then they skidded to a stop right in front of him. Kelly and James.

Troy stopped talking and everyone from his team stopped to stare at the two other Spartans, who wore MJOLNIR armor identical to John's. John was taller than both of them by a few inches, but they still towered over everyone else in the camp.

They both saluted at the same time.

"Good to see you, sir," they announced in unison.

"I heard about your little crash," Kelly said, her voice feminine, but it had a masculine undertone at the same time, "It seems danger likes to find you out, and gives no fun to any of us. Quit hogging it all!"

She threw a punch at him, just like she used to – and she hit him before he could move. His shoulder was jerked back, and John let out a groan as it seemed to shoot through his entire body. However playfully threw a punch back at her, but she dodged it quickly. James looked at her, shaking his head. She swiped a Spartan smile at both of them, and the two boys returned it.

Renee, who was watching the Spartans in awe like everyone else, noted how foolish they seemed to act – she instantly realized John must have good friendships with them, especially with Kelly, who seemed almost immaturely playful despite his rank. She glanced to Troy, who looked absolutely disgusted at their antics, and then to Amy, who met her glance and gave her a wink.

"I wonder if James is single!" she whispered.

Renee sighed and rolled her eyes, and looked back to John, Kelly, and James.

"You're alright, though?" James asked John calmly – James seemed to be even calmer than John was.

"I'm fine," John said again, rubbing his shoulder, and then he looked back to Kelly, "Well up until _you_ slugged me one."

Kelly let out a small laugh – contained, but a laugh none the less.

"You can take it, sir. Did you get the briefing?"

"No – our Pelican crashed before we received any information."

"Well the deal is we're going to finish setting up here. James and I have set up a tent, there's room for you. After everyone is settled, we're going to do what we do best. We may get orders to stay here 'til tomorrow. It's getting fairly late."

"It was only noon."

"Lacerta's days are shorter than say those of Earth or Reach," James explained, "Right now it'd be the equivalent to about 1800 hours, won't be long before twilight. It's not that easy fighting Covenant in the dark, well it is for us, but not for your marines."

"They're blind as bats," Kelly added, "Elites can easily pick 'em off at nighttime."

"We've already explained the situation to one of your Senior Lieutenants," James said, and then he gestured, "That one over there next to the Jr. LT from your team."

John looked over his shoulder, and spotted the Senior Lieutenant they were talking about, and next to him was Troy. He'd have to warn Kelly and James about Lt. Fisher.

"What's _his_ problem?" Kelly snorted. John knew she was talking about Troy, he must've been making a sour expression in their direction.

"Hates Spartans with a passion, John explained.

"Oh, one of _those_ guys, huh," Kelly put her hands on her hips, "My favorite."

"So, what team have you assigned to you this time?" James questioned, "A good batch of marines?"

John turned to look at his team, and addressed them sharply.

"At attention, everyone, I'd like you to meet two of my fellow Spartans, Kelly and James."

Alpha Team snapped to attention, besides Troy, who refused because of his rank. He just glowered blankly at the three Spartans armored in green.

"Who is who?" Amy spoke up loudly, "You all look the same."

John looked to his Spartans.

"Up for taking off your helmets?" he asked.

Kelly didn't answer; instead she took off her helmet and slung it under her shoulder, a small smile on her face. She had light brown hair, cropped nearly as short as John's, except she had longer bangs, and blue eyes. Her face was fairly masculine, with prominent cheekbones and a prominent jaw-line, a sharp nose and thin lips. James took off his helmet after her, more hesitantly. He had buzzed dirty blonde hair, with green eyes. His nose, which was slightly off-center, was dusted with a few freckles. He had a scar running through his lip and a five-o-clock shadow, with a round face that made him look younger than he was. Both of them, however, like John, were ruggedly attractive.

"Kelly," John gestured to her, then to James, "James."

Kelly glanced to John, and in a split second, she had whipped the helmet from his head, pushing it into his arms.

"Don't make us feel alone," she said, taking in his face, "You got blood on your mouth, John."

John felt all eyes on him, as he reached up and wiped it away.

"Looking good, sir," Kelly complemented him, "Dr. Halsey always said you were a handsome leader." Knowing John wouldn't reply, she looked to the marines of Alpha team again. She spotted out Renee and Amy.

"Two women!" she remarked, "It's been a while since I've seen any female marines – they seem to be a rare sort." She gestured to them, "What are your names?"

"Private Renee Kilburn, ma'am."

"Private Amy Smythe, ma'am."

"Well, Privates," Kelly said approvingly, "Good to see you with us. Do you know John well?"

"Yep, we do," Amy spoke up predictably, jerking a thumb in Renee's direction, "She knows him hell of a lot better, I guess you could say."

Renee jammed her elbow into Amy's side secretly, but this made Kelly curious.

"Oh?" she looked to Renee, "How's that?"

Renee made brief eye-contact with John, and she could tell by the look on his face not to say anything. It was obvious neither of his Spartans knew.

"Well..." Renee began, thinking fast to cook up a lie, but Amy interjected.

"They're close," Amy grinned, throwing a wink at Kelly, "If you know what I mean."

Renee felt all color drain from her face, and she looked at Amy, then to Kelly, John, and James. Oh the horror! Amy and her big mouth! Kelly and James both looked at her, and then to John, who looked as mortified as Renee did.

"Really," was Kelly's only reply.


	14. Making Camp

**Chapter Thirteen**

**[March 11, 2535 ****–**** Marine Base Camp ****–**** Outskirts of Lacerta's Main City - Lacerta]**

Renee wasn't sure what to do. She stood there motionless, letting several seconds tick lazily by, her heart pounding in her ears. Why on earth would Amy say that to Kelly? Say that to anyone? She thought Amy had it understood that her and John's relationship was meant to be kept secret, not blurted out to everyone on their team and worst of all to two of John's fellow Spartans! What would they think? Kelly and James had known John since they were six. Renee had only met him a few days ago; she was just a mere marine. Kelly and James had trained with John, fought alongside John, knew him probably ten times better than she did. What on earth would they think of her, a mere Private of the Marine Corps, a grunt, inexperienced and not even close to having the talent and lethality of a Spartan, being in a relationship with John?

She looked briefly to James, who had a look of suppressed humor on his face, like he thought it was a joke. Kelly, though, her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully and they darted to John – who wasn't looking anywhere in particular, no doubt avoiding her eyes. She then looked back to Renee, who felt small under her gaze – a gaze that was very much an analytical one. Kelly, just like John or any of the other Spartans, could easily take a normal human being and tie them into an unintelligible mass of flesh and bone. Renee had every reason to be intimidated.

"Well," Kelly said thoughtfully, and then she rubbed her nose, "That's very interesting, John. Well, I'm going to go back to our tent, the flies are getting bad. I'll trust you can find us. Come on James."

She turned, and began walking quickly away, and James raised his eyebrow at John, before turning and hurrying off after Kelly. After they had gone, the nervousness seemed to die down and everyone seemed to spread out and get busy helping with unloading supplies from the Pelicans or setting up the tents.

John looked at Renee, and then at Amy for a long, long time. His eyes penetrated right through hers, and Amy realized that this look wasn't friendly. She watched as he turned without a word, and went over to the Senior Lieutenant, who had just finished his conversation with Troy.

Renee bowed her head and studied the dirt beneath her boots, clenching and unclenching her fists, unsure for a while what to say to Amy. She didn't hear her friend making any moves to leave.

"Why did you say that?" she said finally, not looking away from the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Amy exclaimed, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I had no idea; what's the big problem anyway? People were going to find out eventually! Kelly was hitting on John; I figured I should just tell her about you guys so she'd know not to…"

"Kelly is John's friend and teammate," Renee snapped her head up to look at Amy; "She's known him long before I have! They were just fooling around! You didn't need to tell her anything; she had every right to do what she wanted. You just succeeded in creating an unnecessary problem."

"What the hell? How, Renee?"

"Calm down you two, please," John's voice interrupted, and the two quarreling friends turned to look as he walked up to them, his helmet still slung underneath his arm, "Go and see if there are any more things you can do to help set up camp. If not, call it a day. Get some rest."

"We're not going into battle?" Renee asked quietly, knowing this was the one time Amy wouldn't have anything to say to him. With a quick glance to her friend, she could see the ashamed look on her face.

"Not today, it's almost dark," John said, "It's too dangerous for you marines to try and fight at night. The aliens have no problems seeing in the dark. You do. We'd lose too many men if we engaged battle tonight."

"I see," Renee replied, keeping her voice soft. For some reason she felt like she didn't belong all of a sudden and it must have carried through to her expression.

"Don't look so upset," John said softly to her.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, showing discretion when he much wanted to kiss her instead. After a moment, he turned and strode off towards the direction of the tents, glancing back over his shoulder just once. His expression carried many possible emotions, but before Renee could try and decipher them, he had turned his head.

"I don't feel well," Renee declared in a whisper, not taking her eyes away from John.

"You need some sleep, that's all," Amy replied, clapping Renee on the shoulder too, before turning and leaving her, heading off towards the tents herself.

Renee stood there for a long while, until she decided to walk over to a nearby supply box and sit down, letting her assault rifle drop out of her hands onto the dirt, and she put her head in her hands. That's when she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

"Upset, RenRen?"

Renee whipped her head around to look over her shoulder, and she saw Troy standing there, his helmet off. He had a scratch across his face, she noted, with dried blood running down the length of his cheek. It must have been from the crash.

"Since when do you care, LT?" She shot back defensively, looking away from him.

She heard footsteps on the dirt, and was surprised when Troy sat down beside her on the supply box. She didn't look at him, but instead she focused on the sunset, which was turning the sky a mix of pinks, reds and yellows.

"It's been a while since I've taken the time to watch a sunset," Troy spoke, keeping his voice low, "I've forgotten how nice they are."

Renee glanced to him, realizing in mute surprise that he _wasn__'__t_ being sarcastic. He had meant it. She hadn't seen it in a long time, and it took her brain a moment to register that this was the Troy Fisher she used to know. So, she mused, he still existed.

"So have I," she agreed.

Troy met her eyes, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"John's a Spartan, Renee," Troy said calmly, changing the subject to the one she knew was bound to arise, "and those two are just like him. It's who he belongs with, and you can't merge him in with a bunch of normal people, and try and change him. He's like a shark amongst a bunch of tropical fish. Doesn't belong, doesn't fit in. Never will."

"Somehow I knew you'd bring him up," Renee replied quickly, looking down at her feet.

"It's true, though, and you know it," Troy narrowed his eyes, and Renee's head snapped up, meeting his eyes challengingly, "He's not one of us, and if I were you, I wouldn't waste my time on liking him. You're just going to get hurt in the end."

"Isn't that what always happens?" Renee raised her eyebrows, "I loved you for years, I got hurt in the end, right? Now that we're fighting a war, there's pain, suffering and death all around us. What's a little more pain?"

"I didn't up and die on you," Troy said, "I left for the UNSC – I didn't want you to be home worrying, then you and Smythe joined up – a stupid decision, a stupid, stupid decision. Then, it made things impossible to work for us – see, how well do you think I would've been able to carry myself properly if I allowed myself to love? There's no place for it. Today, when you fell out of the Pelican, I got scared; scared for the first time because I thought you were dead. That's why I never wanted you to follow me into the UNSC, because something like that could happen. It did, and it's only because Spartan jumped out and saved you that you're here sitting beside me now."

"Then be thankful for his presence."

"That's not the point I'm making."

"You wouldn't thank him even if you were paid, would you?"

"I have no fucking reason to."

"Don't get sour."

"Renee," Troy sighed, "Those Spartans, they fight, they kill, until one day their luck runs out and they get killed in action. Don't believe those rumors about them being indestructible, you know just as well as I that they can die. They get sent on these ridiculous missions, and if they get killed, well, then they get called heroes, get their name slapped on a cenotaph and it's all well; died for a good cause, fighting for Humanity. Disposable soldiers, is all they are."

"Don't say that," she snapped, "They're just as disposable as any one of us. That's what we do, fight and die protecting our race. They're still people, they have emotions."

"You're wasting your time with him!" Troy raised his voice a little, "He doesn't know what love is, he thinks he does, but he doesn't know jack shit about anything beside what he was made to do – and that's to kill. All of them are the same; they care about fighting and nothing else. He's just using you as a comfort object when he's not out in the field. Didn't you see him when he met up with Kelly and James? It's like he was reunited with long lost family! He hardly paid attention to you! You're not one of them, and he's not one of us. You have me and Amy; you don't need someone like him."

"I have Amy, yes," Renee replied coolly, meeting his eyes. She paused for a moment, "But I lost you a long time ago."

"No, you haven't lost me," Troy shook his head, "It's me Renee… this is me and you know it is – I just have Lieutenant at the beginning of my name and a huge fucking responsibility on my shoulders. I hardly have time to joke like I used to – I've been sour to you, I've been awful to you and Amy, even – but I have no other choice. I can't afford to go soft. I still remember everything though, our childhood, I haven't forgotten that, as I'm sure you haven't. Remember that one time, it was the junior prom and we were walking to the school; I was wearing my best suit and tie, you were wearing that purple dress then next thing you know Kirk came speeding past with his new car and drove right through a mud puddle, and I jumped in front of you to protect you, and I got totally soaked?" Troy smiled and laughed at the memory, and Renee gave him a weak smile.

"I remember," she said quietly with a nod.

"See? I haven't forgotten anything. I realized today, after you fell out of the Pelican and it crashed, we can't hate each other. You never know nowadays if something you say to someone could be the last."

Troy was making sense at _that_ part, Renee thought. But she knew no matter how long Troy prattled on about John and how he was different, he wouldn't be able to sway her thoughts or feelings about him.

"Right," Renee answered.

"I don't hate you. But don't expect me to be nice when you're with _him._ Take this as advice and let him go."

"What's so different about him? It's not like he has two heads or six eyes or something! You'd think he's a fucking alien by the way you act!"

"What's so_ different_?" Troy echoed, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "Oh, he's just seven feet tall, unnaturally strong… he's pretty much the Hulk for Christ's sake! He's dangerous! You were there; you saw how easily he threw me around! Think about it, all you need to do is get him pissed off and he'll snap your neck!"

"No he wouldn't!" Renee stood up, snatching her assault rifle off the ground and glowering down at Troy, "He's been nothing but gentle with me."

Troy stood up too, now looking down on her.

"You're going to start that gentle giant shit with me are ya?" Troy snapped, narrowing his eyes. Renee could see the old Troy being pushed back inside every passing second, "Oh, he's gentle, he's this, and he's that! He's a freak, that's what he is! They all are! I don't know what the hell happened to you and where you're intelligence went, but you're definitely not using an ounce of it!"

"I love him."

"Oh you love him, but he doesn't love you," Troy said with a sneer, "I loved you ten times more than he could ever imagine loving you! If you weren't so stupid, I'd think about giving us another try once this war is over, if it ever is. But that's fine, if you choose the freak, cool. He probably doesn't even have any balls! They probably mutated him with a bunch of alien DNA or some type of shit!"

"Why can't you leave him alone?" Renee cried, her voice growing high-pitched. She tried to shove Troy away from her, but he grabbed her wrists, and shoved her roughly backwards, behind one of the tents, shadowing them both in darkness.

"Why?" Troy echoed, his hands clamped tightly about her wrists. She struggled against him, looking bewildered.

"Let go of me," she said icily.

"Why?" he said again, "This is why."

Then his lips were over hers in a kiss that made her stomach flop. He still had her wrists in his grip, she tried to struggle, but she couldn't. She wasn't able to break the kiss, she was under Troy's control. Her heart pounded furiously in her ears, anger overwhelming her, and with a surge of force, she shoved him with all her strength, and he went stumbling back several feet.

She gasped in a breath of air, looking at him in horror, readying herself if he tried to come back at her again. However Troy just looked bemused and he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"That a good enough answer for ya?" he demanded, taking a step forward.

"Don't touch me," She snapped through clenched teeth, going over defensive tactics in her mind: the good old kick to the groin or perhaps if she could be fast enough, a punch to the solar plexus.

"Just calm down," he took another step forward, "It was nothing new…"

"Stay away!"

"Renee…" Troy reached towards her, but in a split-second, Renee slapped his arm out of the way. Without thinking, she drew back her fist and swung; it made contact with his nose with a sickening crunch. Troy recoiled, letting out a loud curse. Doubling over, he cupped his nose, which even in the dim-light, was visibly dripping blood.

"Jesus Christ! You broke my _fucking _nose!"

"Sorry, Troy," she said calmly, feeling no sympathy.

He was still cursing like a sailor as Renee walked past him and out from behind the tent, wiping her bloody knuckles calmly on her pants.

* * *

John located the designated tent Kelly had mentioned, and peeked in through the flap and saw his two fellow Spartans, already out of their armor and dressed in plain muscle shirts and camo pants. They hadn't yet noticed him, and for a second, John thought about ducking back out and pretending he had never been there. He wasn't sure what they were thinking of him ever since Amy had decided to open her mouth.

He had been planning to eventually tell them about Renee, but he wasn't sure how he was going to do it or what their reactions would be and he wasn't sure if Amy had made the situation easier or harder for him.

With a deep breath, he swept back the flap and walked into the tent, his head almost touching the top. Kelly and James both turned around and greeted him with a smile.

"Hey John," Kelly said calmly. James just gave him a polite nod and sat down on his cot.

"Hello," John answered quietly, standing motionless for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"That cot's for you," Kelly gestured towards the cot nearest to him, "We figured you'd want to bunk with us."

"Actually, I hadn't planned on sleeping," was John's reply, "I didn't bring any clothes to change into."

"Typical John," Kelly shook her head with a small laugh, "James, you brought an extra pair, didn't you?"

"Yes," James answered, and he reached down under the cot and picked up a pile of folded clothes, and tossed them to John with a graceful swing of his arm. John swiped them out of the air effortlessly, but he looked down at the clothes in his hands.

"I'm really not tired," he said with a frown, and he tossed the clothes back, "And I don't think this is the best place to let our guard down. My Pelican was shot down by a Banshee. The Covenant know we're here. It wouldn't be a problem for them to find our base camp."

Kelly, who had just sat down on her bed, slapped her hands on her knees and let out a sigh and looked to her MJOLNIR armor, which was situated by her bed on stand-by mode. She stood up, and studied John's face.

"You've changed," she stated, "Previously on Jericho IV, we made camp and slept several times, sometimes without one of us standing watch. You're concerned more than usual, John. That girl, Amy Smythe, was she making a joke or talking seriously?"

John furrowed his eyebrows, and looked around the tent.

"Telling the truth," he answered simply, meeting Kelly's eyes.

She just simply shook her head.

For once, he felt ashamed. He knew his two Spartans would look down on him for it. But they had never known love.

"Bad move," James said with a sigh.

"Don't hurt yourself," Kelly told John sternly, "You remember how much it hurt us when Sam was killed? And he was a friend. Imagine how much it'll hurt when that girl dies on you. She doesn't have the armor we do, plasma burns through the marine's armor like its paper, you know that."

"I won't let her die," John declared determinedly.

"You can't glue her to your back," James was quick to retort, "What will happen the next time Dr. Halsey assigns us on a Spartan-only mission? When you're no longer associated with the _Hercules_ or even that same squad of marines? Don't do this to yourself. It's unnecessary stress."

"I know." John clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, "I've told myself that so many times. I can't help it; I can't help what I feel! Have either of you felt love yet? No, obviously not, or you wouldn't be ridiculing me. I'm in love with her, I'll protect her, and it's not going to change. Understand?"

Kelly and James exchanged weary glances, but didn't make any objections.

"So, I don't know about you, but," John continued, "I'm going on guard for the night. I think it'll be a little easier if there were three of us guarding the camp's perimeter."

"It'll be one of those nights, then, hmm?" Kelly asked, a small smile coming on her lips, and she rolled her eyes, "You never like to sleep, do you?"

"I do, but in moderation," John replied smugly, "I stay awake when I know lots of lives of depending on me. You two can get suited up, and I'll wait outside."

"Yes, sir," Kelly saluted him playfully.

John turned and left the tent, and he slipped his helmet on his head, and his HUD blinked to life. It was filled with almost a hundred yellow dots of his fellow soldiers, and not a single enemy showed on radar. Not a blink, not a flicker.

He turned to his left and saw Troy Fisher walking hurriedly in his direction. His hand was clamped over his nose, and even in the dim light, John could see blood trickling through his fingers. The first thought that came into John's mind was a Covenant attack, but he realized that an alien would give him more than just a bloody nose.

"Lieutenant," John took a few steps towards Troy as he approached, "Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright!" Troy snapped irritably, "My nose is fucked!"

Troy tried to sidestep him, but John stepped right in front of him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I can help," John offered, "What happened?"

"Don't touch me," Troy hissed, backing away from John's hand as if it was poisonous, and glared up into his mirrored visor, "What happened? Well, just ask your girlfriend!"

"Renee?" John asked, confused.

"Of course, dumbass; who the hell else?" Troy raised his voice, taking his hand away from his nose, and looking in disgust at his blood covered palm. John took a quick glance at Troy's nose and could see it was clearly broken. It was off center a little, and was already incredibly swollen. Blood was still dripping from his nostrils. Troy looked at him for a while, breathing heavily from the pain and anger, and then finally shouted, "For Christ's sake, can you put two and two together, you stupid green-armored bastard? Renee punched me in the nose!"

With that, Troy gave him a violent shove, and threw a couple of punches at his chest plates, hurting his fists more than he hurt John.

"Get the hell out of my way!" he roared, and John, who barely felt the punches, sidestepped the fuming Lieutenant and allowed him to continue on his way.

John, for a moment, felt like laughing, but he pushed the urge aside. He wondered what tent Renee was in. He felt suddenly worried for her safety. Mouthing off to a superior officer was one thing, but punching the guy was in a whole other league, a more severe league at that. If Troy decided to go whining to someone, he'd have more than just his word against Renee's, he'd have a broken nose as plain evidence. But somehow, John half knew that Troy wouldn't say a word. It would probably hurt his pride too much to announce that a girl had been the cause of his broken nose. If John was right, Troy was probably already plotting up some stupid lie about what happened to tell his friends tomorrow morning.

* * *

Ktao 'Kolsamee sat beneath one of the larger trees surrounding the human base camp, leaning up against the wide trunk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and his plasma rifle lay on the grass beside him, and his deactivated energy sword was in his other hand. He had his invisibility cloaking activated of course, for if he hadn't, one of the Spartans or perhaps even a marine would see him in the shadows.

He had seen the other two Spartans, and from what his translators had caught, the female one that went by the name of Kelly, seemed to be a little more jumpy and carefree than the other. The one named James was similar to John, but all of them looked the same with the helmets on, and were surely as equally talented.

'Kolsamee hadn't received any specific orders about what to do with the other two, but 'Malnoonee had told him to kill whoever else got in his way of his mission of slaughtering the Demon and Renee. He just hoped that those other two Spartans would happen to get in his way. He would enjoy that immensely, to slaughter not one, but three of Humanity's special super-soldiers.

He moved one four-fingered hand up to his stomach, which was grumbling in hunger. He hadn't eaten in a long time, since earlier the other day aboard the _Hercules_, where he had snatched a half of what humans called a "sandwich" off one of the cafeteria tables when no one was looking. Human food was odd. It was hard for him to chew, pieces of it got stuck on his teeth and it was even more difficult to try and swallow. However, it didn't taste too bad. 'Kolsamee had had worse, like the time he had to eat some food a group of Kig-Yar had been sharing.

He couldn't wait until his mission was over, until the Demon and his love interest were slaughtered, and he could join back with his own species and eat Sangheili food again.

But aside from that, 'Kolsamee had just watched a very interesting scene from his seat beneath the tree. Renee had gotten in an argument with another human, whose name 'Kolsamee had understood to be Troy. He had almost laughed when he saw the little female punch Troy in the face. She obviously must have some sort of strength, 'Kolsamee decided. Why hadn't she tried to punch _him_ in the face when she had run into him around the corner aboard the _Hercules_? Oh, he reminded himself, because humans spooked easily. They were scared, wimpy creatures, who were nothing without their guns. Sometimes, they were nothing _with_ guns, too.

They were just plain amusing, how they set up their little tents, how they wouldn't dare venture out at night, knowing they would be easy prey. Sangheili and the other species of Covenant didn't set up little tents; they slept on the ground, if they had time to sleep at all. They were brave enough to go out at night, were prepared and unafraid of death.

'Kolsamee suddenly became alert as he saw the three Spartans emerge from the cluster of tents up ahead. They walked into the center of the base camp, where they stood in a group for a moment, obviously discussing something. Odd, he noted. He thought he had heard the female Spartan mention they were going to sleep.

The Spartans talked with each other for several minutes, until they departed in different directions, one to the north end of the camp, one to the west, and the other to the east.

'Kolsamee was relieved there wasn't one to head in his direction – he wasn't in the mood for killing tonight.

He sat there in silence, letting minutes tick by, as it got darker outside, and the last few lights inside the tents flicked off. He realized, the Spartans must be guarding the camp's perimeter… but they were foolish, for they were oblivious that a huge threat – that could easily slaughter everyone in the area – was seated under a tree not twenty feet away from the nearest tent.

Now that the Spartans had left the camp unattended, 'Kolsamee's stomach seemed to grumble louder and louder. His hunger became more persistent, and his conscience began to urge him to go into the camp and look for something to satisfy it.

'Kolsamee decided that he would go and try to find some food. He quietly rose to full height, stretched, and then he slunk down, hunching his back so he stood at about six and a half feet tall. Even though he was invisible, he felt more secure when he had this sneaky posture.

He slunk into the perimeter of the camp, ducking against the tent Renee and Troy had fought behind not long ago, and he craned his long neck around the corner to see any movement, but didn't see any. So he wandered further into the camp, following his nose, sniffing for any scents that might be human food.

Strangely, a large cluster of supply boxes, towards the center of the camp caught his eye. There was a faint smell wafting out of them that smelled like food. He crept over to the nearest box, and studied it for a moment to try and figure out the quietest way to get into the contents. If he shot his plasma rifle, the plasma would easily burn through the box, but the sound would awake someone or get those Spartans rushing back to camp. 'Kolsamee looked down to the deactivated energy sword in his hand, and decided this would be the best way. It would slice through the box, and only make a slight hissing noise, which shouldn't wake anyone.

'Kolsamee swung out his arm, activating the sword, and it glimmered to life with a hiss, the blue-white of it doubling as a flashlight. With a well aimed swing, the top of the box was cut cleanly off, the wood landing onto the ground with a dull thump. He was just about to peer into the box, when suddenly he sensed a presence behind him, and whipped around, only to see a human girl, with fiery red hair, looking right at him. He realized in a split second it was Renee's companion, Amy.

He deactivated his invisibility cloak, and brandished his sword challengingly, and took a warning step towards her.

Amy stared in horror at the black armor-clad Elite, realizing this was the same one that had been aboard the _Hercules_, the one that had hit her, the one that had almost killed Renee. She hadn't been asleep when she heard rustling outside, and had she decided to come and see who it was. And she had neglected to think about bringing a weapon with her.

'Kolsamee's burning yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he stared at her, unblinking. She glanced momentarily to the box he had sliced open with his energy sword. What was in the box that would be of any interest to an Elite?

For a moment, Amy considered sounding the alarm, but realized this alien could kill her instantly before she would even be able to say the first word. So she met his eyes challengingly, and recalled that she had heard from others that the Elites could in fact speak English. So she took a deep breath, and said quietly,

"What are you doing?"

'Kolsamee understood her words with help from his in-helmet translator, though he was confused. Why didn't she make any move to try and call for help?

"It doesn't matter to you, human scum," 'Kolsamee said in English, despising the language, "Tell me, how would you like to die tonight?" He chuckled after this.

"I wouldn't," Amy replied, her voice unsteady as she took a step backwards, "There are three Spartans in this camp. You kill me and they'll be right on your sorry ass."  
"They've gone to guard the perimeter, human," 'Kolsamee hissed in his deep voice, "They wouldn't hear if I were to slice your head from your shoulders."

"You wouldn't kill me," Amy challenged, "I know you wouldn't."

"What makes you think that, you pathetic creature?" 'Kolsamee growled, tightening his grip on his energy sword, "I hit you once, though apparently not hard enough to crush your skull."

"You remember me," she whispered.

"I trust you must remember me as well," 'Kolsamee chuckled with a sneer, "Dead afraid you were, and that friend of yours. You're afraid of me now. I can sense your fear, oh, how I enjoy it."

"You're a sick bastard," she was quick to snap.

"In your terms, I may be," 'Kolsamee replied, "But I am only following orders, just as you are."

"Your orders are to kill your enemies, why haven't you killed me?"

"You're not on my list, human, unless you get in my way. My name is Ktao 'Kolsamee."

"I don't give a shit what your name is," Amy said. She was beginning to get fed up with this Elite's attitude, "Your name could be Fuck-shit, and it'd make no difference to me."

"Oh it will, eventually," 'Kolsamee said calmly, "It'll be a name that will cause you great grief, in good time." He backed up, and reached down into the box, and picked up one of the items. He held it up to his nose, and sniffed it. He recognized what it was, a ration pack. Humans ate them out on the field. Not a sandwich, maybe, but it would satisfy him until his mission was complete.

Amy stared at 'Kolsamee, her face contorted into one of bizarre confusion at this alien's actions.

"Until then, Amy," 'Kolsamee gave her a slight nod of his head, and with a chuckle, he deactivated his energy sword, and dashed off into the forest, taking the ration pack with him.

Amy could only stand and stare in the direction the Elite had gone, her mouth hanging slightly open in awe. She had just had a conversation with a Covenant Elite, and had lived to tell the tale. How in the hell had it known her name? For a moment, she wasn't sure what to do. Wake someone? Go find John and tell him where the Elite had gone, and hope he'd go after it and kill it?

She glanced down to the box that had been sliced open. Surely in the morning someone would notice this. The top lay several feet away, the wood blackened and torched where the energy sword had burned through it. Then they would know an Elite had been in the camp, but surely that would raise suspicion when it left without killing anyone?

Amy had been the only witness to this, and she decided it would be best to keep it quiet. She trudged over to the box, kicked it closer to the others, and then bent down and picked up the sliced off top, which was still warm in some areas.

For a moment, as she made her way awkwardly across the camp to the tree line, in the direction the Elite, or 'Kolsamee, as he had told her, had gone, wondering what on earth she was doing. She realized though, if she didn't hide the evidence, Troy or one of the other higher ranking officers would get John, Kelly and James in trouble for allowing an Elite to get into the camp.

Amy reached the edge of the woods, and was surprised to see 'Kolsamee again. She saw his eyes first, but they weren't where she expected them to be. They were close to the ground. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she saw 'Kolsamee was seated on the ground like a common human would be. He had torn open the ration pack, and was trying his best to chew on a piece of pepperoni, though pieces of it fell out of his mouth.

She shot him a weird look, but didn't say anything. This was too weird. Amy prayed that she'd wake up, and it would be just a dream. This wasn't normal, Elites didn't talk to Humans, they didn't steal ration packs, they didn't run into a Human and let them live.

Amy walked past him, to the edge of the woods, feeling his eyes following her.

"Hiding the evidence?" 'Kolsamee's low growly voice inquired. She glared at him over her shoulder and tossed the top of the box far into the forest. She heard a dull thud as it collided with a tree and fell to the ground.

She didn't answer, but just turned around and started walking back into the camp, feeling shivers run down her spine. Behind her, she heard 'Kolsamee chuckle softly to himself in the darkness.


	15. Complications

**Chapter Fourteen**

**[March 12, 2535 – Marine Base Camp ****–**** Outskirts of Lacerta's Main City – Lacerta]**

John felt relief as he peered through his rain spattered visor as the first glimpses of the sun's rays began to brighten the sky. However, he had a feeling, as he signaled to Kelly and James to head back to the camp that today wasn't going to be very sunny.

At the moment, the sky was clear but grey, mixed with the faint traces of gold from the sun, as it was beginning to poke its head up over the horizon. However, when John looked to the west, he saw dark clouds billowing up, challenging the sun. It had rained off and on during the night, sometimes a sprinkle, others a downpour. John, Kelly and James had a rather miserable time trekking through the surrounding area. The ground on Lacerta, as soon as it was touched by water seemed to magically transform into brown, sticky mud. James had gotten stuck once during the night, having sunk nearly knee deep in muck, and had to get Kelly and John to pull him out.

Besides the peril of sloshing around in the mud, they hadn't done much else. Throughout the whole night, none of them had seen not even a blip or a faint enemy reading on their motion trackers. The Covenant must not have cared for rainy weather and muddy terrain, either.

John trudged into the camp, noticing that no one appeared to be awake yet. The camp's grounds had changed from last evening, slick with mud. Kelly and James weren't far behind him as he sloshed his way among the tents. Now that it was easier to see, John heard Kelly's remark from behind him.

"You have mud from your toes to your ass, John."

"Hmm," John answered coolly, looking briefly down at himself, and sure enough, from the waist down the green titanium plates hardly looked their color. They were splattered with light brown mud. He glanced back over his shoulder at Kelly, and James, who looked worse than he did. With a wry smile, he said with a snort,

"Look at yourselves."

He watched with smug amusement as his two fellow Spartans looked down and saw their own conditions.

"Oh fun," sighed Kelly.

"We've got ourselves some cleaning to do before breakfast," James replied, calmly as usual.

John turned back around and walked further into the camp, and as he passed the tents, he could see the marines asleep in their cots. It only made him realize how tired he was. He paused when he spotted Renee in one of the tents – one of the hastily made ones – and saw she was awake, lying on her stomach with her hands folded under her chin. She looked at him, but didn't say anything, for she wasn't sure what Spartan it was.

John decided to swipe a Spartan smile, and she smiled back instantly, realizing it was him. She waved slightly, and he waved back. He glanced quickly back over his shoulder, and saw Kelly and James were talking to each other, not looking at him. So he took his chance and ducked into Renee's tent.

She rolled onto her side as he knelt down beside her cot. John ignored a stab of pain as it shot up from his legs and along his spine as he did this. He then reached up and removed his helmet, his suit depressurizing with a fairly loud hiss.

"Good morning," he whispered, Renee moving her legs slightly to allow him to set his helmet temporarily on her mattress. He folded his arms on the bed, smiling earnestly.

"Morning," she whispered back, reaching out and grabbing his large gloved hand, intertwining fingers gently. She met his eyes lovingly, "You're covered in mud, where were you?"

"Out all night," he answered her with a sigh, "Guarding the perimeter with Kelly and James."

"All night?" Renee looked sympathetic, "Couldn't you have done shifts?"

"Didn't want to risk it. Besides, it's not the first time I've stayed up all night. Just about my thousandth, actually."

Renee laughed softly, squeezing his hand, although to him it wasn't a squeeze. He glanced down, and quickly noted the dried blood on her knuckles. Must have been the hand she socked Troy with. For a moment, he felt like laughing, but pushed it aside. Instead, he pulled her hand up so that her knuckles were in their plain view and said although he knew,

"I wonder where this blood is from."

Renee's expression changed instantly – she went a little pale and carried an expression a child would have when they had been caught doing something bad.

"Um…" she began, but John let go of her hand and formed his own into a fist. He playfully placed it to her cheek, raising an eyebrow.

"Punching a Lieutenant, whether they were your childhood friend or not, _isn__'__t_ a good idea," he declared seriously, furrowing his brow, meeting her surprised gaze sternly. He lowered his fist.

"You… found out?" she asked sheepishly.

"Saw Troy's broken nose," John replied, "And he told me the rest."

"Ah, well," she said sulkily.

"I hope you realize that if he decides to go open his mouth about it, you might be in deep trouble, so you need to tell me what he did that provoked you to lash out."

Renee shook her head, and let out a sigh, and rolled onto her back.

"Nothing."

"You're lying." John said almost instantly, "Renee. _What_ did he do?"

"Nothing that deserved a broken nose," she answered, looking up at the ceiling, "Well, I thought so at the time. He just was saying shit about you and the other Spartans, tried to sway me into staying away from you. He was actually nice for a few minutes before, like… the old Troy," Renee glanced at John momentarily, "For a moment I'd thought he'd wizened up; it was the Troy Fisher I used to know. Then when I told him I loved you, the old Troy was gone again. He got really mad at me, got kinda rough… well… pulled some shit."

"What type of shit?" John quoted her, feeling his adrenaline spike. Just the thought of Troy being rough with her alone made him want to break his neck.

"He kissed me," Renee heaved a big sigh, "I shoved him away though, of course. Then he said something about you, I was already mad enough and his words just… made me lose control. I must have hit him harder than I thought."

John didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"Are you alright?" Renee asked quickly, noticing John's change in breathing.

"I will be," John said, clenching his jaw, "Give me a minute. Had I known last night he'd done that, I would've broken his nose _again._"

"Calm down," Renee bit her lip, reaching out and resting her hand on John's cheek. His face was burning hot – it shocked her, and strangely enough, she could feel him trembling. For a moment, she was frightened to think he was that angry that he wanted to harm Troy … and she withdrew her hand like she had touched something scalding.

John's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they looked dangerous, but they softened.

"I'm sorry," he said, letting out a sigh, and he leaned in and kissed her. Although his expression had softened, his emotions obviously hadn't yet, for his kiss was rough, his lips were almost a crushing pressure against her own. He pulled back after a while.

"You better get ready; we'll be heading out soon." He said, and he picked up his helmet and put it back on his head. Without another word, he got to his feet and ducked out of the tent, only to meet up with James and Kelly walking towards him.

"Last time I checked, that isn't your tent, Master Chief," Kelly used his rank jokingly.

"I know," John answered crisply, walking past them. He could still strongly feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins; his anger wasn't completely dissipated, although the kiss had calmed it down a little. At the moment, he wasn't interested in what Kelly or James thought of him. He knew that they probably made the connection that it had been Renee's tent.

Kelly was quick to catch up with him.

"You're angry about something," she noted, "I don't need to see your face to figure that out. You should see the way you're walking – looks like you're going to kill something… doesn't he James…?" she asked her companion as he joined pace with them on the other side of John. James didn't appear to want to get involved, for he just shrugged.

"She's gonna kill you, John." Kelly said simply.

However, her words went in one ear and out the other; as John's HUD lit up with a giant red blob, and he whipped his head up to see a Covenant cruiser fly over head. His heart rate spiked, for he knew if this thing decided to fire on the camp… they'd all be dead within a split, searing second.

The rumbling of its engines awoke mostly everyone in the camp, and marines ran out of their tents to look up at the Covenant cruiser. It seemed like an eternity, but the ship passed, heading on towards Lacerta's main city of Zarunai.

A moment later, several other Covenant cruisers followed. John counted mentally, seven. The reality of why they were heading to Zarunai – John had feared it, but he realized that it was happening now.

He looked around, to the sleepy-eyed marines, who were all gazing up at the sky in question. He spotted Renee and Amy amongst them, who looked slightly intimidated. John glanced up to the east, and saw the _Hercules_ firing at passing ships.

Thomsen's voice suddenly came over his intercom.

_"Chief! This is not__ looking good. I__'__ve just received reports from the Corinth. The entire southern end of Lacerta has been glassed, although from up here, the area around you looks untouched. Try your best to kill as many Covenant infantry as you can. Keira has informed me that the cruisers you just saw pass are heading to the north__…__ the Corinth has some marines waiting for them __–" _

"_John, oh excuse me Blake__…"_Keira's voice interrupted, _"John, they will be looping back for Zarunai soon… but, do you see that Assault Carrier on the horizon? Well, that just happens to be the Domination, and they'__ve made special arrangements to stay over Zarunai. They__'__ve been mentioning you. I__'__ll tell you more as I come to understand what exactly it is their up to.__"_

"Roger that," John said, and then he turned to Kelly and James, "Did you hear that?"

They both nodded.

"I wasn't around for the battle of Capricornia, but I know what her fate was," Kelly answered, "Let's not let that happen to Lacerta. That's my goal."

"Indeed," James agreed simply.

"Alright everyone!" John called, "I want everybody awake and suited up ready to go and in their designated teams in five minutes! Double time it, go, go, go! Anyone who's in Alpha Team meet right here with me, ASAP."

Renee, who had already geared up, was the first to join John. She looked back over her shoulder as Amy and the others scrambled into their gear and collected their weapons. The camp had instantly been turned into a chaotic scramble.

Kelly and James both looked at the girl then up to John.

"What are our orders, sir?" Kelly asked him, "What team?"

"You'll lead, with us," John answered, "James, you'll be to the right side, covering our flank, get a sniper rifle and your AR. Kelly, you'll be our rabbit. Taking the lead, you'll scout out the area. I want you with the same weapons as James."

"And you don't even give us time to clean our armor, you devil," Kelly mused, "I guess you don't mind being dirty." With that, she turned and hurried over to the boxes of ammo alongside James.

John looked down to Renee, letting his arm holding his assault rifle fall to his side.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked lowly.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she huffed, forcing a smile on her lips, "Did you hear anything from the _Hercules_?"

"Yes. It isn't looking good. The entire southern end of the planet has already been entirely glassed."

"Have we got a chance? Or is it going to be another Capricornia? Another Jericho IV?"

"Hard to say at this point," John replied truthfully, "We'll do our best none-the-less, right?"

"Kick ass?" she smirked.

"Kick ass," John agreed, raising a fist to her. She gave him props, and John was surprised with the force behind her fist.

"Feel that?" Renee raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." John was amused. He smiled behind her visor.

Renee smiled, satisfied. At that moment, Amy, along with Josh, Kirk, Blaine, Luke, and Henry arrived. John noticed that Troy wasn't with them.

"Did anyone see Lieutenant Fisher?" John asked, shooting a glance to Renee, who looked ashamed even without being able to see his look. Amy, who was clueless about the night before, put in her own theory.

"He's probably hiding," Amy said with a scoff.

She had a very restless night, and wanted to go off somewhere and get a few more hours sleep. The whole incident with 'Kolsamee had got her thinking. Never before had she ever been that close to an Elite in a non-hostile situation, let alone long enough to carry out a conversation. She was worried after she had gone to bed, for she knew 'Kolsamee must have a reason to hang around the camp. He hadn't been interested in killing her; she hadn't been on his "list". Then who was? Somehow, she got a sneaking suspicion John or his other Spartans might be on his so called list. He had mentioned that his name would mean something to her later on. She doubted it would mean shit, but somewhere she also had a sneaking suspicion it _would_, and it wouldn't mean anything good.

Freakish Elite; she wondered where he was now. Probably still watching from the tree line, maybe still casually seated beneath that tree. Wherever he was, she knew he'd be watching, probably in bleak amusement, or anticipation, waiting for the right moment to come out and attack.

Knowing he could attack them gave Amy a panicky uncertainty that made her want to tell John, tell Renee, and tell whoever would listen. But, also, who would believe her when she told them she found an Elite in their camp last night, had a conversation with it, let it steal a ration pack and come out of the situation alive?

No one, that's what, it was too absurd to believe. She'd keep the event to herself.

Amy looked to Renee, and gave her a little smile. Renee returned it as always, but struck her as looking worried. Renee always appeared worried before they'd go into battle, but this time she seemed more paranoid than ever. Something about the way she fidgeted and shifted her eyes all over the place made Amy feel paranoid too. Hell, Renee didn't even know about the Elite in the woods.

That's when Troy arrived.

Everyone turned to look at him, as he was the last person to get into their assigned team. He came trudging around the corner of a tent, an angry scowl on his face. White gauze was taped thickly over his swollen and bruised nose, which seemed now to take up a large majority of his face.

He joined the team without a word, his scowl getting impossibly worse as everyone looked to his nose, which he had made no attempt to try and hide the fact it was obviously broken.

Blaine was the first to break the silence.

"What happened to…" he began, but Troy was quick to interrupt him.

"It's broken!" Troy snapped, "What do you think?"

Blaine bit his lip and saluted embarrassedly. No one acknowledged Troy directly after that. Renee looked at him, feeling slightly ashamed for a moment, but immediately hardened her feelings. No, he didn't deserve any pity. If he wanted to be an asshole, and hate her because of her own personal decisions, so be it. She could live fine without Troy as a friend; she had Amy, and now John, who was much more than a friend. Troy deserved that punch to the nose as much as the Covenant deserved being killed.

"Alright," John spoke, when James and Kelly joined up with them, "We're Alpha Team, which as many of you know, is the first letter of the Greek alphabet. So being Alpha, guess what our position will be."

"The lead, sir?" Luke was quick to answer.

"Diller's right," John said with a nod, "We're leading the rest of the teams. Being the first, we'll be obviously the first targeted. That's why we have Kelly and James. Kelly will be our scout, James will cover our flank. We haven't discussed much of the battle plans, but we'll go right in through the middle, in the main road into the city. The other teams will span out to either side. We'll take the warthogs through the jungle; I scouted the area last night. There's a narrow path that leads into the city's outskirts, it's a few miles, and it'd be a good place for an ambush, so keep your eyes peeled. Once we reach the city, it's on foot. The main objection, wipe the city clean of Covenant. We'll be supplied ammo, weapons and ration packs when it's possible, but there may be times where the Pelicans can't reach us. Judging by those clouds on the horizon, it looks like rain, so those conditions of Pelicans being unavailable to us will undoubtedly increase. Make sure you have extra ammo. I'll give you a chance now, if you want to go back and grab a few clips."

He looked around, and no one from Alpha team budged.

"We're all well supplied, then?" John asked rhetorically, "Alright, team. I'll take two of you in the closest turret warthog. The rest of you into a troop transport, double time, let's move it!"

"I've got the turret!" Amy shouted, and bolted for the warthog.

John looked down to Renee.

"Want to call shotgun?" he said softly, despite feeling Kelly and James' questioning eyes on his back.

"Sure," she answered, and they hurried over to the warthog. Renee jumped in the passenger's seat and John in the driver's. Amy was already on the turret. John waited until everyone else piled into the troop transport next to them. Kelly was quick to call the driver's seat, and James shotgun, and the rest of Alpha team piled into the back.

"Are you sure you'll be fine on the turret?" John asked, looking in the rearview mirror at eager-faced Amy. She shot him a look to take it back.

"I'm not a newbie," she grinned, "How's you're driving?"

"I like to speed," John replied wryly, looking over to Renee. She grinned at him, but put on the seatbelt, which made him want to laugh.

"Are we ready?" he called over to Kelly, who flashed him thumbs up.

"Okay," John muttered, and then he started the warthog up, revving the engine. He jerked the gearshift into reverse, backed up, and then he drove towards a small, mostly bush covered path that was barely visible, and declared, "Hope you don't mind a little mud."

Then he slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the warthog's engine roared as it jerked forward, and flew into the path, bushes and leaves whipping at the windshield. Amy, though she was momentarily assaulted by vegetation, let out a little whoop as the warthog sped down the path, curving around a bend, and going over a small boulder.

There a was a split second where they were in the air, and then the warthog slammed into the ground, swerving slightly, sending mud splattering all over the windshield, and everyone in it. Renee shielded her face in disgust as mud flew in her direction.

"Sorry," John glanced at her momentarily.

"Oh she doesn't mind getting _dirty_," Amy exclaimed, laughing at her own joke, "Right Renee?"

John raised an eyebrow, getting the joke. He glanced at the redhead in the rearview mirror, shaking his head in disbelief. Even in this situation, Amy never failed to throw some suggestive content into the conversation.

"Shut up Amy," Renee remarked with a scoff, "Oh John, did I happen to mention she was interested in James?"

"You liar!" Amy screeched from the turret, "I've got Wayne back home; I simply think James is _hot._ I think John is hot, too. I mean, what's to not like?"

"Let's focus, you two," John sighed, swerving the warthog around another bend, "Amy, I hope you are keeping your eyes out for any Covenant."

"Oh I am," Amy answered, sounding slightly irritable.

The drive along the path was surprisingly peaceful. Like the night's patrol, not a single alien was spotted. John arrived into the clearing behind a large building in the city's outskirts, cut the engine, but didn't make any move yet to get out.

He didn't like this one bit. By now, he had expected to have seen at least maybe a scout Jackal or a couple of Grunts, but they had seen absolutely nothing. It made him uneasy, for he knew the Covenant were here, and that Banshee had taken down his Pelican. Why hadn't they attacked? This morning when he came into the camp after a long night's patrol, the idea had first come into his head. But now, it was back, and it was becoming more and more apparent.

An ambush, wait until they were unsuspecting, then launch a full out attack when everyone was still grouped together. As he looked around, John's heart began to pound.

A place… where they were unsuspecting… where they were grouped together…

The last warthog pulled into the clearing, and parked. It was silent for a moment, as everyone waited for Alpha team to make the first move. John snatched up his assault rifle, and got out of the warthog, doing a sweep of the area. As he was just about to finish his sweep, a purple flash caught his eye, but by the time he had turned around, one of the marines from Beta team had a plasma beam through the head, and he fell from the warthog, blood pooling out onto the ground.

Everything happened in a quick second, everyone began to panic in surprise as they saw the dead marine's body. John spotted it, a Sniper Jackal, from a window of the building, but just as it was readying to fire, an ear splitting crack cut through the air, and the Jackal's head exploded in a burst of purple blood. John's head snapped to Kelly, who was out of the warthog and peering down the line of sight of her pistol.

It was quiet for a moment as everyone dared to even breathe.

The three Spartans suddenly looked at each other at the same time… as dozens of red blips began to appear on their HUD's. John whipped up his assault rifle, and roared,

"AMBUSH! EVERYONE INTO BATTLE POSITIONS _NOW_!"

Everyone leaped out of the warthogs and troop transports, tearing out their weapons, and as if on cue, hordes of Covenant emerged from all sides, from the alley ways of the buildings, the bushes, from behind rocks. Grunts, Jackals and Elites.

Several alien screams and Human screams of "Fire!" ripped through the air, and weapons from both sides came to life, filling the air with earsplitting racket. The Grunts, who spilled out first, most of them got in a couple of shots, but were taken down and peppered with rounds, but it was insane, as more came out, ambling over the bodies of the fallen.

John took out several Grunts, who screamed as rounds tore through their skin and imploded their methane tanks, which then exploded and killed the ones closest to them. He glanced over to Renee, who was successfully slaughtering the Grunts. He watched her as she emptied a clip, and quickly jerked it out and replaced it with a new one and took to firing again, quick, accurate bursts of the assault rifle. She was relatively close to him, but he wanted to reach out and grab her and throw her behind him. _Stop it_, he realized,_ she has been trained, and she knows how to fight._

He tore his attentions away from her and back to the Grunts. He glanced around, and saw several of the marines had already been wounded or killed. A ray of green plasma sizzled past his head, and he ducked, feeling the heat right through his armor. He quickly filled the Grunt who had fired it full of lead.

Next, came the Jackals. They bolted out into the field, and then ducked behind their shields, bullets pinging off them, some of the bullets ricocheting and killing marines. John cursed, and darted forward and brought the butt of his rifle down on a Jackal, crushing its body and deactivating its shield, but then came face to face with an angry Elite, who roared and swung its fist at him. John jumped out of the way just in time, and fired, bringing down its shields and filling its abdomen with bullets. With a roar, it collapsed to the ground in a puddle of purple blood.

* * *

Behind all the craziness, 'Kolsamee was crouched behind a tree, hearing all the wild gunfire. Bullets and plasma alike flew through the air, making it hard to move from his position. 'Malnoonee came onto his headset.

"Has the ambush begun?" 'Malnoonee demanded.

"Yes," 'Kolsamee replied, having to raise his voice to be heard over the gunfire, "What do you want me to do? I can get a clear shot at the girl, I can kill her right away, although the Demon…"

"Are there three of those Demons?"

"Yes… and that's the problem… they're all equally strong! They're slaughtering our troops easier than I figured!"

"Damn them," 'Malnoonee cursed, "This isn't going to work. I'll have to think of a new plan. Tell them to pull back… there's no fun in just _killing_ them. I want them to suffer, spend their last breaths in unsustainable agony… I'll get back to you, 'Kolsamee. Stick close, follow them. Don't let the girl or the Demon out of your sight."

"Yes sir," 'Kolsamee answered, and turned off his headset, and shouted in Sangheili, "Pull back!"

* * *

John was in the middle of wrestling an Elite when all of a sudden, he heard a loud unintelligible cry in alien language. This changed the aliens' motive. John saw the surviving Grunts, Jackals, and Elites pulling back out of the corner of his eye. He glanced back to the Elite he was grappling with – it was grasping at his assault rifle in some ridiculous tug-of-war… but all of a sudden, the Elite roared, let go of the assault rifle, causing John to stumble backwards. It raised its fist, and brought it down on John's helmet with brute force, and his vision doubled, sending pain going through his skull. Then, the bastardly alien kicked him viciously right in the chest.

This was too much, and John felt the air leave his lungs in one sickening breath. He fell, and the impact of his body hitting the ground jarred all of his already sore bones. He went to cry out, but he had no air to do it, so instead it came out as a strangled gasp.

John heard the Elite turn and flee, and for a few seconds, time seemed to go on without him, like he was invisible, lying on the ground. He had to get up, he _had_ to. He could taste copper in his mouth - his spit was thick with blood, and his head was throbbing so badly…

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to cope with the pain. His chest, he knew by the feel of it he must have at least one broken rib. He gasped in a lungful of air, and it burned, but with another breath, he felt better. And another, even better.

"John! Are you alright?" He opened his eyes to see Kelly and James leaning over him.

"Fine," John replied, his voice weak, "That Elite… just hit me pretty hard. Give me a minute, I'll be alright."

Past Kelly and James, he saw Renee's worried face looking down on him as well. He felt like passing out, but he knew he _couldn__'__t_. He had a mission to complete, so he pushed the sickening dizziness away, and moved his hands up to Kelly and James' shoulders and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Are you sure you're fine?" James asked.

"The Covenant retreated?" John ignored James question and changed the subject, he hated being the center of attention. He would be fine, it was his burden, and he could deal with the pain himself. He didn't need Kelly, James, Renee, or anyone else worrying about him.

"Well, those that we didn't manage to kill," Kelly filled him in, "We lost at least four marines… about five or so injured, but for the Covenant, at least two dozen killed."

John cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. Casualties… he felt the sickening feeling in his stomach as he always did. It was the same feeling that he had felt when he had lost over half of his Spartans to the augmentation surgery.

"Get someone to take a troop transport and take the dead and injured back to camp, make sure they're treated correctly," John said, allowing Kelly and James to help him to his feet. It wasn't a surprise that every bone in his body was back to aching.

"Yes," Kelly said solemnly, and she turned to go talk to the nearest Senior Lieutenant, and James followed. John watched as the marines gathered up the dead bodies, and placed them on the troop transport. Those who were injured had only minor plasma burns, so they were able to jump in the back.

He felt a faint pressure on his hand, and glanced down and saw it was Renee.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"I've been told it's not my fault," John replied, "But, every single time it happens, I can't help but feel that it is."

Renee sighed, and hugged his arm slightly. John looked down, and saw her right arm was bleeding. Instantly he felt alarmed.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out.

"Oh," Renee answered calmly, "Plasma just grazed my arm, I'll be fine. It hurts a little, but it's nothing I can't handle. I'm more worried about you… if that Elite had hit any one of us, we'd probably be in a coma or dead with a cracked skull. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes," he replied, not liking the conversation to change back to him, "I wonder why the Covenant retreated so suddenly… it's not like them to retreat from battle. I've seen over a hundred of them attack and have every last one slaughtered."

"They must have received orders," Renee suggested, "Perhaps, they weren't expecting to see three Spartans."

"Maybe," John said, with a minor shrug, "Whatever it is, I don't like it. First it was an ambush, now they retreated. This isn't normal behavior."

He looked up to the sky, to the Covenant assault carrier, clearly _The Domination_, above the city. Whoever was commanding it had first been odd when they had ran into them during Slipspace. They had retreated then, too. John had a strange feeling this had to do with him. What they were so interested in, he wasn't sure.

It was getting very gloomy outside, the dark clouds that had been on the horizon were now swirling overhead, blocking out the sun. There was a flash of lightening, and then a loud clap of thunder that seemed to shake the ground. Renee flinched slightly, and just on cue, it started to pour down rain.

"Great," Renee muttered sarcastically, "Just my favorite weather."

"We have to move on," John said, looking around at all the marines, who had clustered into their teams again, some of them missing men. He glanced back to Renee, "We're Alpha team, and it's up to us to lead. Come on." He glanced back over his shoulder and yelled, "Alpha team! Up here with me! We're moving on!"

Kelly and James were the first to arrive.

"We're heading into the city now; do you want me to fall behind?" James asked, gesturing to the sniper rifle he had on his back.

"Yes, get somewhere up high and follow us, from the roof if it's possible. Kelly, you go ahead, stay at least forty meters ahead of us at all times, signal me when you see something, snipe if it's possible, then loop back around and join us."

"Yes sir," Kelly and James said in unison, and James went off down a side alley to get to a higher location, and Kelly sped on ahead.

John looked around at the rest of the Alpha team, their expressions in a general area of disgust and exhaustion. Amy, John noted, looked particularly cautious, like she was expecting something to come jumping out at her. Well, he couldn't really blame her attitude now, after the previous ambush.

"Alright, let's move; keep it at a good pace. The one main rule, kill all Covenant. Leave no survivors," John ordered sternly, "Let's do a damn good job of protecting Zarunai, marines. What do you think!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" They all replied in average unison.

And with that, they all started off into the city at a light jog, in double or single file, assault rifles at the ready.

* * *

'Kolsamee, with his invisibility cloak and plasma rifle at hand, was quick to duck out of an alleyway and follow, keeping close behind, but was aware of the Spartan James flanking the group with the sniper rifle. He had to be extra cautious now, but despite it all, he had a sudden good feeling that this was going to be a very successful mission.


	16. Lacerta's Fall

**Chapter Fifteen**

**[March 12, 2535 ****–**** City of Zarunai - Lacerta]**

John led Alpha team further into Zarunai, ignoring the pain that was now constant with each footstep he took. His eyes were almost always locked on Kelly, who was fifty meters ahead of him. Every once and a while, she would turn back and look at him, and give him depending signals. The marines behind him were basically soaked – for it was still pouring rain, but none of them complained. They continued their trek without a word, although Amy, being the talkative one she was, whispered every once and a while to Renee, who's arm was smarting from the rain.

"Do you know what happened to Troy's nose?" Amy asked very lowly, walking closer to Renee so it would be easier for her to hear her, "It's smashed pretty badly, but he easily deserves it. These are the times when I believe in bad karma."

"Want to know the truth?" Renee asked, shifting her assault rifle over to her left hand momentarily to wipe rain drops that had run into her eyes, cursing the rain lightly beneath her breath.

"Of course I do," Amy answered quietly, glancing backwards over her shoulder to Troy, who had fallen back a little with Josh, and the two of them were lowly talking to each other, and she noticed Troy was wiping at his nose with a rag. It was bleeding again, and he didn't appear to be happy about that. Well that was good, he wouldn't be listening in on their conversation.

"I punched him," Renee announced lowly, glancing back at Troy too.

"You did _what_!" Amy raised her voice a little, but was quick to hush it again, "No way, you did _that_ to his nose? Way to go!"

"Not really," she muttered, "If he rats to anyone about it, I'm in big trouble. I feel kind of bad, too, you know… I guess I hit him harder than I thought."

"What did he do to you?"

"He was just being typical Troy, let's leave it at that," Renee replied with a sigh, and after a moment of silence, she continued again, "Can I ask you something?"

"You can always ask me anything," Amy raised an eyebrow, "I'm your best friend."

"Have you ever seen the normal Troy recently? You know, the Troy we went to school with?"

"Nope, not since... jeez, I don't even remember when…" Amy scrunched her face up thoughtfully, "How about you?"

"Last night," Renee answered, looking down at the ground, "He came back, Amy, our friend Troy. He sat down with me and talked, he reminisced about the past, high school… for a moment I thought I was dreaming, but it was really good to have him back."

"So what, then?" Amy asked, "He started being nice and you punched him out?"

"No," Renee replied, "When I mentioned John, the old Troy disappeared and he started shooting off."

"Are you sure he's not schizoid or something?" Amy asked, raising her eyebrow curiously, "People aren't meant to change personalities like that. Troy was always weird, though. However, my personal conclusion that best fits this situation is that Troy's simply jealous of John."

"Hmm," Renee shrugged, "Whatever his problem was, I wish he would bring the old Troy back to stay."

"Troy's done too much to ever hope of receiving my forgiveness," Amy replied with a scoff, "I don't care if Troy comes back begging on his knees. As far as I'm concerned, he's no friend of mine. The only reason why he pulled Mr. Nice-Guy on you is because he still likes you, but you've got John now, a real man."

Renee nodded silently, and kept walking, getting ahead of Amy a little. With a jog, she caught up with John, glancing over her shoulder momentarily. She saw Amy, and _Troy_ looking at her. Troy scowled the moment they made eye contact, so she quickly looked away and turned back to John.

"No Covenant, it's strange," she whispered lowly, glancing up to him.

"Yes," John answered calmly, "Except for that ambush, we haven't seen any, which is leading me to believe we're too late."

With a look around the empty city streets, it sure looked like it.

Zarunai was like a ghost town, most of the residents had already fled or been evacuated to safety, or so it was the information John was to understand. However, with a city of over a million residents, he found that very hard to believe that _everyone_ had been successfully evacuated. It seemed almost impossible.

As Alpha Team got further into the main streets, destruction became more apparent. Walls of buildings lay collapsed, leaving debris scattered on the roads and sidewalks. Roofs had been caved in, and several buildings were on fire despite the rain, and little bonfires lay flickering in the streets from explosions. Anything plasma had touched was melted, deformed and blackened out of shape.

The marines grew silent again, as they followed Kelly's lead into the crumbled remains that had once been a flourishing city. Apparently, somewhere along the line, someone had gotten their news mixed up – or the news had been old. Zarunai had already undergone Covenant invasion, and didn't come out of it looking too well.

John glanced around at the destruction solemnly; Renee was almost sad looking beside him. His eyes went to her arm out of concern. The sleeve on her upper arm was torn, and the fabric was thick with blood, however, he was able to see the skin of her arm, and he was relieved to see it was only a minor burn, just a graze. He then glanced up to Kelly, who turned and signaled him – no Covenant were in sight. How much further would this go on?

With a quick radio to the other teams, John confirmed that no one else was seeing anything either. Not a movement, not a measly Grunt. Kelly stopped at the corner of the road, glanced in both directions, and the darted around the corner, and over the intercom, John heard her give a strangled gasp.

Instantly, he was alert.

"Kelly?" He asked rather loudly, panic rising in his voice.

This got everyone's attention, and they whipped their assault rifles up in caution, all looking forward to the corner Kelly had just gone around. Renee, even though she was beside John, she felt frightened. What happened to Kelly? She stared at the space where John's fellow Spartan had just been; it seemed impossible to keep her weapon steady in her hands.

John was just about to go running, assault rifle bared and his finger on the trigger, but Kelly's voice gladly came back through the speakers in his helmet.

"John…" Kelly spoke, her voice faint - it sounded shocked, "You… might want to come see this."

John felt his stomach do a somersault, and could tell instantly by the tone of her voice, that whatever she wanted him to see wasn't anything good. He glanced down; meeting Renee's eyes, then looked over his shoulder at his team.

"Let's go," he said, and turned around and lightly jogged towards where Kelly had gone. He was more than aware of Renee having to pretty much run to try and keep up with him. With a quick glance to his HUD's motion tracker, it was easy to tell the rest of Alpha Team wasn't better off.

He paused momentarily before he rounded the corner, to allow everyone to catch up. And then, with a deep breath to try and calm himself, he stepped around the corner. With a thousand deep breaths, even, he couldn't have prepared himself for what he saw. John heard the gasps behind him as his team took in the same scene that he did.

Kelly was standing several feet ahead of him, her arms down at her sides, her assault rifle held loosely in one hand. She was unmoving, and with good reason.

Past her, lay hundreds, if not thousands, of dead bodies. _Human _bodies. They were thrown carelessly into a pile in the middle of an intersection, the mass stretching on for nearly a full city block. Men, women, children… from old to young, all of them dead, most of their bodies mangled and melted from plasma, or broken and shattered in abnormal contortions from being mauled.

John, although he normally had a very strong stomach, felt nausea creeping up on him. The smell of decay and blood filled his nose and it was almost too much to bear. He had to turn away from the scene, and he clamped his eyes shut and tried to get the image out of his mind.

"Oh my god," Amy whispered, her eyes wide in horror, "There must be… over a thousand…"

Every single person on Alpha Team was feeling the effects of the sudden massacre they had come across. Even Troy had gone pale.

"All these innocent people…" Renee choked, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, "How could they…"

"I'm… going to be sick," Troy said suddenly, his face a pale green color. He turned and hurried around the corner to vomit. Amy and Renee exchanged glances. The sound of Troy being sick didn't help the situation at all.

About half a minute later, Troy came weakly around the corner, still without color in his face, clutching his stomach. Not saying a word, he turned away from the scene and sat down on a piece of concrete and let his head droop into his hands. Josh, Blaine and Kirk used this as an excuse to turn away too, for they all clustered around Troy, not caring where they sat or crouched. Kirk even sat halfway in a mud puddle. Luke and Henry just leaned back against the wall and avoided looking at the massacre of bodies. Renee and Amy were just standing, unmoving; in awe that so many people were dead, murdered by the Covenant.

John clenched his hands into fists, so tight that he could feel the tendons straining. His knuckles cracked, and he felt the anger welling up in him, the frustration, and the guilt. He glanced up when he heard running footsteps, and saw James had joined them. John couldn't see his expression, but knew by the way he stopped dead in his tracks, that it would be similar to everyone else's.

All those people, mothers, fathers, brothers, grandparents, daughters… they had friends, they had family, they had husbands and wives, they had their whole lives to live… but the Covenant took it all away from them. Slaughtered them all, committed genocide once more against the Human race.

John's anger flared, and he knew he had to get it out. Not normally did John lose control, but he did this time. He dropped his assault rifle onto the asphalt with a metallic clatter, and let out an angry growl, lunged forward, and grabbed a piece of concrete up off the ground that was bigger than any of the marines.

"GOD DAMMIT!" John screamed at the top of his lungs, and flipped around, and flung the concrete through the air as if it had been a Frisbee. It hurled through the air for about a hundred meters, and then collided with a skyscraper, smashing through glass and the metal frame, making a deafening crash.

Everyone flinched, and Amy tried to pull Renee back out of John's way as he turned around, but she fought against her.

"John, stop it!" Renee shrieked, but his anger was so powerful; she hadn't seen him get this angry before. John heard Renee, but he was too mad to calm down now, he realized. His anger wasn't yet satisfied. John picked up another piece of concrete, though it was smaller, and hurled it too; yelling and screaming like a crazy man. He bent to pick up another, but suddenly he was attacked from both sides – Kelly and James – and they both threw him up against the nearest wall.

"Stop it!" James demanded.

"John, get a hold of yourself!" Kelly sounded slightly frightened, but her voice remained serious, "Stop it before you kill someone!"

John fought against them for a moment, but gave in, just shaking his head as the realization of what he had just done began to sink in. Renee… he could have hurt her, he could have hurt Amy, he could have hurt anyone…

At that moment, he vowed to never let his anger get a hold of him like that again. He heaved a big sigh, and allowed himself to slide down the wall, and he plopped down onto the ground with a dull thump, and held his head in his hands, focusing on breathing and containing the anger that was still a threat to him.

Kelly and James exchanged glances, but backed up from him, knowing he was calming down. For a while, no one spoke, until finally, Kelly turned away from everyone, and radioed into the _Hercules_.

"This is Kelly-087, does anyone read me?"

"Kelly," a smooth voice came back almost instantly, and she recognized it to be Dr. Halsey, "It's good to hear your voice. How are things going down there?"

"Not too good, Doctor," Kelly answered, "We've just discovered a scene that isn't too pretty, over."

"What is it?" the Captain's voice came over the intercom now. He sounded tired.

"Reports say that our area of Zarunai had been evacuated, right?" Kelly asked.

"Right."

"Well that's a theory that's just been flushed," Kelly frowned, "We've come across what must be over a thousand dead bodies. All human, sir. Men, women, children, their bodies piled high; it almost goes on for an entire city block. Clearly killed by Covenant forces."

She heard Thomsen curse, and it was silent for a few moments.

"How's your team doing?" he said finally.

"They're alright, sir," Kelly replied, "A little shaken up, John especially."

"I'm fine now," John came into the conversation over the radio, and Kelly glanced over and saw he had gotten to his feet, "Captain, sir. I want everyone, all teams, evacuated now. We were already ambushed once, lost four marines, and more were injured. This is just hell, worse than Capricornia had been, sir."

The other line was silent for a moment.

"John, do you think we should…" Kelly began.

"How are everyone else's teams doing?" John demanded to Thomsen, getting impatient.

"Not good," Thomsen answered finally with a sigh.

"See, we're only losing men. This is another Capricornia, only worse…" John trailed off, when suddenly on the horizon, a bright red flash illuminated the sky, and a deafening roar came after it. Pieces of debris came flying through the air, huge pieces of concrete that had once been parts of buildings. Some of them were melted away. His adrenaline spiked, and everyone seemed to realize what was going on at the same time. Despite the rain, the temperature seemed to be getting _warmer_. Just as the large bulbous bow of the carrier _Domination _came into view over the skyscrapers, John forgot completely about the radio conversation, and looked into Kelly's visor.

"They're glassing the city," they said together.

John whipped around to the shocked faces of Alpha team, whose attentions were now on the sky.

"Everyone, back to the warthogs, NOW!" John barked, snatching up his assault rifle off the ground.

Everyone jumped to their feet and started running, Kelly, James, and John flanking them, running at a painstakingly slow speed for them. If they had wanted to, they could have made it back to the warthogs and back to the base camp in less than five minutes.

As they ran down the vacant street, jumping over pieces of debris, the marines tripping over their own feet, the city behind them erupted into white-hot flame. Buildings literally melted and fell to pieces, asphalt turned into soup, ground was scorched black.

"Faster, go, go, go!" John shouted encouragingly to the marines, for he, Kelly and James were nearly running up their heels. Occasionally someone tripped, but one of the Spartans was quick to snatch them up by their collar and give them a shove to get going again.

Renee and Amy managed to keep their balance, though Amy was one to stumble.

"I must say, this is my first time for being in a city while it's being glassed!" she shouted, glancing back over her shoulder at the city, "It's quite the high, I must say!"

"Not the time for humor, Amy!" Renee snapped, giving her friend a shove, "Run!"

"I am!" Amy cried, "You went to school with me, and you should know though that running isn't my specialty!"

Suddenly with a yelp, Renee tripped over a large piece of concrete, and was sent sprawling head over heels onto the wet asphalt, her helmet as well. With a sickening thud, her head hit the ground, and instantly she was knocked unconscious.

"Renee!" Amy skidded to a stop, but Kelly, the nearest Spartan, waved her on. John instantly felt sick, and wanted to go to her side, but he knew Kelly would get her.

"I got her, go!" Kelly demanded to Amy. Pausing only for a second, she scooped Renee and her helmet up off the ground and flung her over her back – almost too roughly for John's liking. As they continued to run, John saw Renee's head was bleeding, but the yellow blip on his motion tracker assured him that she was just unconscious.

However, the call from ahead made John feel a little better.

"There are the warthogs!"

The other teams had gotten there before them, and there were two left for Alpha Team, the standard warthog and the troop transport.

As everyone clambered in, John immediately wanted to magnet to Renee's side, but as he watched Kelly hand her up to Troy and Josh and the rest of the marines in the back of the troop transport, he realized he needed to drive the warthog.

Kelly and James ran around to the front of the troop transport, and Amy was waiting in the turret for him. Troy looked up from holding Renee's head on his lap, and saw John looking hesitantly at her, he said,

"I'll keep good care of her, Spartan, move!" He shouted, but something about his voice was friendlier than usual. John gave him a nod, and ran to the warthog and jumped in. It seemed he couldn't turn it on and get it going fast enough.

Behind him, he could hear the city crumbling as the _Domination_ continued on its destructive sweep of the area. The warthog's engines came to life with a roar, and John drove the warthog onto the path, speeding as fast as he could go. An assuring look in the rearview mirror told him that the troop transport was right behind them – Kelly appearing to be just an avid driver as he was at the moment.

In the back of the troop transport, Josh and Troy were caring for Renee, while the rest of the marines looked on with worry.

"Is she dead?" Kirk asked.

"No!" Troy snapped, "She's knocked out cold, that's all," he looked particularly frustrated at Josh dabbing at the bloody wound on her forehead with a dirty rag, "Make yourself useful Kirk, and get me the damned first aid kit!"

"Yes, sir," Kirk muttered stupidly and reached down underneath the seats and pulled out the first aid kit, and handed it to Troy, although the vehicle went over a bump and Troy fumbled it, and it fell onto the floor. Troy cursed as it broke open and medical supplies went everywhere.

"Get me that roll of bandages by your foot, Diller," Troy said impatiently, snatching up the surgical scissors, "And that bottle of iodine rolling back there…"

As he unscrewed the cap of the bottle, poured some onto the bandages and tried to cut the adequate sized piece of it to cover the wound, Blaine started.

"Why are you helpin' her, LT?" he asked, "She broke your nose!"

Troy glanced up, shooting him a look that served well as an answer before turning his attentions back to Renee, lying unconscious on his lap.

* * *

'Kolsamee ran into the edge of the woods, watching desperately as the vehicles sped down the path. He cursed in Sangheili, and turned around to see the Domination glassing the city. It was a beautiful sight, but he knew 'Malnoonee had either come up with a new plan, or completely forgot about him down on the ground. He decided to radio in.

"Malnoonee, sir," he barked, "What _are_ you doing! I've lost the Demon… and the girl, they jumped in their vehicles and are heading back to their camp to evacuate!"

"I said there'd be change of plan," 'Malnoonee's calm voice came back, "This planet fell too easily, I'm not prolonging the death of it just for you to try and kill your targets."

"Then what's the new plan?" 'Kolsamee demanded.

"You're coming aboard the _Domination_," he answered, "I've got your location, and I've sent a drop ship, it's coming to pick you up as we speak. You're original goal will still prevail; the Demon and the girl are still to be slaughtered. Only, we'll get them the next time we find ourselves a new planet to glass. For now, you will join me, 'Vadumee and the rest of us Sangheili in celebrating our victory. Rejoice, my brother, for it's another Human colony fallen into our hands."

'Malnoonee laughed after this in spite of himself, and signed off with a static hiss. 'Kolsamee, strangely enough, didn't feel the excitement. He looked around at the remaining forest, and the few buildings left of the city, and knew all of this would be nothing but scorched land when 'Malnoonee was done having his way with it.

Letting out a slight sigh, the Sangheili looked up into the sky, and saw the drop-ship coming down towards him. He walked out into the clearing and waited for his own bitter evacuation.

* * *

In the troop transport, Troy was just finishing bandaging Renee's head. After he had declared that Renee was a friend of his, no one seemed to object, although he was well enough aware of the weird looks that were being shot at his back from Blaine and Kirk as he worked. Josh was quiet enough, and didn't do much else but hand him the required things he needed.

Troy was putting the last piece of medical tape on the bandage, when Renee woke up. She jumped at first, letting out a little gasp, after seeing Josh and Troy leaning over her, but Troy shushed her.

"Calm down, RenRen," He said, turning and putting the tape away in the first aid kit, "Everything's fine."

"What… what happened?" she mumured, scrunching up her face in confusion, "Where's John?"

"You fell and hit your head," Troy answered, deciding to ignore her question about John, "We're on our way back to the camp to be evacuated. I'd take it we've lost."

Renee nodded, but she looked at Troy stubbornly.

"Where's John?" she asked again, an uncomfortable expression coming on her face when she realized her head was resting on the Lieutenant's lap.

"Jesus, he's in the warthog ahead of us," Troy snapped, "The big oaf is fine."

She glared at him, and coughed slightly, raising her hand to her forehead.

"That kind of talk is what got you that broken nose," she replied bitterly, "Who bandaged me up?"

"I did," Troy replied, narrowing his eyes, rubbing his nose

"Oh, well thank you," she said, closing her eyes slightly, "My head hurts."

"It should," Josh answered, "You cracked it good off the pavement, proving not wearing the buckle on your helmet costs you."

"Shut up," Renee croaked, reaching up and hitting Josh in the arm slightly.

"She's just woken up from being unconscious and already she's throwing punches," Kirk observed, "Violent chick. Was she an abusive girlfriend to ya, Troy?"

"Nope," Troy answered thoughtfully, seeming happy to reminisce again, "If I recall, she was a little on the shy side and didn't get in one single fight in school. Becoming a marine toughened her up."

He glanced down at Renee, smirking slightly, however she glared at him in return.

"Past is the past Troy," she said, "Realize that."

"Hmm," Troy narrowed his eyes, but Renee forced herself to sit up, fighting back dizziness. At that moment, the troop transport went over the last bump in the road, and flew out of the forest, into the open area that had once been the camp.

Everything had been taken down and there were two Pelicans waiting for them. One of them, Renee realized, wasn't one of the _Hercules_. She made the connection instantly that the Pelican must be waiting for Kelly and James.

When the troop transport came to a stop, Renee wasn't a hundred percent sure about her ability to stand, so she squirmed to the side and allowed everyone else to get out first. She was surprised when she swung her legs over the side, she saw Troy standing there waiting for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, "I can walk perfectly fine."

Troy looked amused, but he didn't say a thing, but stood there anyway. Renee jumped off the troop transport, but was attacked by a wave of dizziness, and wobbled. Troy was right there to steady her, and the next moment, he had picked her up. Before she could start protesting he gave her an explanation:

"I told Spartan I'd keep good care of you," Troy said simply carrying her towards the Pelican, "I don't think he'd let you walk."

John met them halfway there, and Troy stopped and looked up into his faceless visor.

"I can take her from here," John said, holding out his arms.

"I kept her safe," Troy told him, as he handed her over to John like she was a parcel, "Bandaged her head up and everything."

"Thank you," John nodded his head, and he turned to walk towards the Pelican, but Troy wasn't finished.

"I didn't do it for you, Spartan," he spoke, looking at him challengingly, "I did it for Renee. I want you to know that."  
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant," John answered, and he turned away and walked towards the Pelican. He sat her down on the edge so her legs were dangling over the side, and he leaned in to examine the bandage. With a scoff, he said, "He didn't do a bad job. How are you feeling?"

"Fine I guess," Renee replied with a sigh, "My head hurts, but it's nothing I can't recover from. You saved me again, I suppose?"

"Nope," John shook his head.

"Then who did? Don't tell me Troy…" Renee looked pained.

"Kelly," he answered, glancing over to her and James, who were busy putting their weapons away in their Pelican, "She and James are leaving on their own ship, the _Corinth_. I don't know when I'll get to see them again."

"Kelly?" Renee echoed, looking bewildered, "I thought she hated me after Amy decided to open her mouth about us."

"No," John said, "She and James just… find it hard to accept, I suppose. They don't hate you."

He glanced over to them, and saw they were approaching them.

"Well John," Kelly said, as she and James stopped right in front of him, "It's been nice fighting with you again, only if it was short. We'll miss you."

"Likewise," he nodded.

"We gotta go,"She announced, and she looked to Renee, "You're awake, that's good."

"Thank you for saving me, John told me it was you," Renee spoke, feeling a little bit uncomfortable, but she smiled.

"Don't thank me," Kelly shrugged, "It's what we do. Keep good care of John for me, make sure he stays in line and behaves himself." With that, she extended her hand and clapped Renee on the shoulder.

"I will," Renee smiled.

Kelly swiped her and John a Spartan smile, and so did James, and with a wave, the both of them hurried off to their Pelican. John turned back to Renee.

"Let's go shall we?" he asked solemnly, and she nodded in silence. He jumped up into the Pelican, and picked her up and sat her down on the seat, and put on the seatbelt, muttering, "You're not falling out on me again."

She smiled slightly, and then he turned away and jumped back out of the Pelican, and helped Troy and Josh hook the Warthog up to the Pelican. Renee sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes, her head throbbing wildly.

Then she glanced out to the tree line, and where the city had once been visible, was now just golden flames on the horizon, and the cursed black outline of the _Domination_ on the skyline. No more words were spoken amongst Alpha team, as lastly, John, Troy and Josh jumped in and took their seats.

The Pelican rose off the ground, and Kelly and James' Pelican was seen speeding off towards their own cruiser, the _Corinth_, hovering high in the sky. As their own Pelican rose, the remains of Zarunai became visible over the tree line, miles of reddish orange remains, which once had been a city. It was shimmering and glowing, strangely enough like a big area of shattered glass.

* * *

Aboard the _Hercules_, Thomsen watched from the bridge as the last Pelican – Alpha Team's, flew up from Lacerta's now burning red surface. He hadn't spoken with anyone from Alpha Team since the _Domination_ had started glassing Zarunai. Losing contact with John had sent Dr. Halsey for a loop; she had spent the last half hour nervously typing on her laptop. It amazed him on how she cared so much about John, if someone were to meet her and not know who she was; they would almost automatically assume she was John's mother. In a way, she was, since she had known him and the rest of the Spartans since they had been just six years old.

"They're coming back now," Keira announced, looking to Dr. Halsey in particular, "And it's another planet lost I'm afraid."

"The Covenant are only getting better," Thomsen observed, "We lost this planet in half the time that it took them to destroy Capricornia."

"Well lots of things come into play, there, Blake," Keira said, "Not enough ships were close enough to provide an adequate force to withhold the Covenant forces for long. We were the first to arrive, and by the time the others did, the majority of Lacerta was glassed."

"I can't get it out of my head, what John told me," Thomsen said, lowering his head in respect, "About finding all those bodies. I honestly thought Zarunai had been evacuated."

"We can't be blamed," Dr. Halsey spoke for the first time since they had lost contact with John, "We tried our best."

"I wish we could try and predict their attacks," Thomsen said determinedly, hitting his fist against the table, jarring Dr. Halsey's laptop a little. "Then we could be ready for them, with a huge fleet! Show them that we actually can win."

"Hopeful thinking, Captain," Keira remarked admiringly, "Maybe it would just be wise to not leave any of our remaining colonies without protection. Whatever it may be, I just hope our odds go up a little when it comes to fighting battles."

* * *

Aboard the _Domination_, things were on a happier note. When 'Kolsamee walked onto the bridge, escorted by a couple of Minor Sangheili, he was greeted with cheers. He spotted Rtas 'Vadumee, standing near 'Malnoonee, who was seated in his hovering chair, looking quite happy.

"Kolsamee," 'Malnoonee greeted him pleasantly, lowering his chair and getting to his feet. He walked over to meet him, "We've won another battle. Another planet, more of those filthy humans slaughtered."

"Yes," 'Kolsamee answered solemnly, "I must admit, you don't know how great it is to be back among my own species again."

"Human life aboard the _Hercules_ that horrible?" Rtas 'Vadumee asked, folding his arms across his broad chest, "I'm sure you have lots of stories to tell us. It's been a while since one of our _Ossoona_ have returned from a mission alive."

'Kolsamee thought for a moment, but nodded.

"Well at least I've figured out some things about the Humans that weren't as clear before, and I know the Demon's weakness, which I've already told you, Ship Master," he said to 'Malnoonee.

"And his weakness is a little pathetic human female!" 'Malnoonee announced to all the Sangheili in the room, and it erupted into laughter. He looked to 'Kolsamee, "This will be all too easy when it comes time to destroy him. Her death will be his own as well."


	17. Treatment

**Chapter Sixteen**

**[March 12****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_** – Lacertae System]**

It was a hustle in the docking bay upon Alpha team's return. The other teams were scrambling to carry the wounded to the medical bay, put away their weapons and park the 'Hogs and land the Pelicans along the large gaping room. The speeds of the marines differed, some rushed quickly, and others ambled along tiredly. The occasional shouts echoed through the room as the remaining officers tried to keep order – they didn't think it was time for rest just yet. Mostly everyone was in a bitter mood after having to relinquish yet another planet to the Covenant, and some of them didn't listen to the orders, instead they brushed them off and headed for the quickest route to the showers, medical bay or their rooms.

John, as he took this scene in as the back hatch of their Pelican fell open, didn't care for the lack in military discipline, and looked to Troy, who was sitting between Amy and Renee. His expression was a little softer than usual, but he knew the Junior Lieutenant had some anger to blow off – and helping the other officers put some lackey marines in their place would be the perfect way to do it. Troy looked into John's helmet, as if he knew he was going to speak to him.

"Up for enforcing discipline, Lieutenant?" John asked.

A little smirk crawled out on his lips, and Troy jumped to his feet, a cocky expression coming on his dirt covered face.

"I'm awfully fuckin' pissed, so hell yes," He raised his eyebrows, glancing momentarily to Amy, who was glaring at him, and to Renee, who was holding her head in her hands, battling a vicious headache, then back up into John's visor, "Take care of her, Spartan."

"Do you really have to tell me?" John asked wryly, but Troy didn't answer, and jumped out of the Pelican, and jogged off, spouting orders almost immediately. The rest of Alpha team took this as a cue and they were quick to exit the Pelican. John stood to the side out of their way, and waited until everyone else but Renee and Amy left.

"What's up with _him_?" Amy scoffed, but it was a rhetorical question, and she brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes, and she and John both turned their attentions to Renee, who was still holding her head in her hands. Amy slid over a seat to be right next to Renee and John kneeled down in front of her, removing his helmet with a hiss as his armor depressurized. His face was shining with perspiration, and he had dried blood on the corners of his mouth.

Amy noticed this, but decided it'd be best not to mention it. She decided to break the silence and be the first to ask Renee what was up.

"Are you alright?" Amy asked first, and when she didn't respond, looked to John quickly, "She hasn't blacked out has she?"

"No," John answered. Just before he had removed his helmet, his HUD told him her vital signs were fine, her heartbeat quickened but at a safe pace. He would have known instantly the moment she blacked out. He let out a breath, and crouched lower, so he could peek between her hands. He couldn't see much of her face through her hair – which had fallen loose from the ponytail when she had hit her head.

"Renee," He said softly, his voice almost _too_ soft – to the point where it didn't exactly fit the image of a Spartan.

"I have a massive headache," she moaned in a whisper, still not removing her face from her hands, "It feels like my head is splitting in two."

"Amy and I are going to take you to the medical bay," John replied, worry quite prominent in his voice.

"I don't want to go to the medical bay," Renee replied, raising her head for the first time, and meeting his eyes seriously, "I just need a couple of painkillers… you're worse than I am."

John narrowed his eyes, realizing her determination wouldn't be easily extinguished. He knew well enough he was about to engage in a battle of the stubborn, but he decided to proceed anyway. He didn't care for the conversation switching over to him.

"I can take it," John basically admitted to the fact that he was indeed wounded, but he brushed off with assurance, "It's about you, not me. _You__'__re_ not augmented."

"I'm fine, John," Renee pressed, "You're not."

"I am," John's voice hardened determinedly.

"No you're not! You…"

Renee was cut off when John leaned in with a lightning fast movement and kissed her gently, although every urge in his body told him to shove her back against the bulkhead of the Pelican and take the kiss beyond the sweet innocence it was currently at, but two negatives came into play. Number one, Amy was right there, and number two, Renee had a killing headache, and probably wouldn't enjoy being shoved around.

He pulled back after a few seconds, and Renee looked a little dazed, her determination burning not so fiercely now in her eyes. John heard Amy stifle a laugh and mutter something to herself, but he didn't take his eyes off Renee.

"I am," he whispered, "And I win that argument."

"I'm not giving up that easily," Renee raised an eyebrow, although her voice was softer now, "It'll take a little bit more than that to change my mind. In fact, I'm not quite sure I _will_ change it."

"_Really_?" John copied her with the raised eyebrow. He smirked mischievously and looked like he was going to continue, but Amy waved her hand between their two faces, which were drawing closer again. They both looked to Amy instantly. John looked particularly annoyed.

"Sorry to interrupt your argument," Amy said, "Which may I add, for the last few sentences, it was _filled_ with innuendo… anyway, I've got a suggestion for you two. Why don't the both of you just admit you're injured and go to the medical bay together!"

Amy's suggestion was wise, and John agreed that that's what he would do. He'd take Renee to the medical bay, where technically speaking they would go there together, but he would drop her off and head to the armory, and then surrender to a shower and then some serious, well deserved rest.

John nodded slightly to himself, and looked to Renee; however she didn't look as thrilled. In fact, she shot to her feet, and tried to sidestep him, but she lost her balance, and in a second, John had swept her up into his arms.

"Take my helmet, Amy," John ordered, and Amy did and followed him out of the Pelican. Renee was silent for a moment, wrapping her arms uncertainly around his neck. Her head throbbed viciously, and that attempt to stand hadn't made it any better. She frowned, and looked up to John's sweaty face, although she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Put me down," she said in a very authoritative manner, "I am _not_ going to the medical bay; I told you already I'm fine!"

"You don't look it," John snapped, glancing down at her as they headed for the nearest exit, "I just want to get you checked over, just to make sure you are as good as you claim, besides, Troy neglected to bandage your arm."

Renee sighed, and allowed herself to go limp in his arms. Her body swayed slightly with each of John's footsteps, and despite the little upset it did to her head, it was almost soothing. She decided it wouldn't do her any good to try and argue with him. Now that she was in his arms, she knew she was like a tiger in a cage. There was no escaping. John's arms were holding her tightly but not too tight. She was well enough aware that with the same arms he had snapped necks, broke bones and crushed organs. It was an almost creepy feeling that made a chill run down her spine.

She glanced down and saw Amy was struggling to try and keep up with John. She was holding John's helmet in her arms carefully, and was looking ahead as they left the docking bay, her expression thoughtful – and oddly serious.

However, her green eyes swept up to her, and the expression left her face. Amy smiled, and gave her a little wink. This reminded Renee of the first time John had carried her, when she had fractured her rib. It had only been a short time ago, but to her, it seemed like it had been years.

Time always seemed to pass slowly in space.

Renee decided to keep quiet for the rest of the way, for it didn't help her headache the slightest. They arrived there rather quickly, and when they walked in it didn't take a second guess to figure the medical bay was busy.

As soon as John walked in, he smelled blood. It made him feel a little uneasy, but he took Renee into the large room that was lined with beds. Most of them were occupied by marines, who were lying in silence with bandaged limbs, or others were groaning in pain as their plasma burns were trying to be attended to. Several of the beds had the curtains pulled around them, and from behind them John could hear the whispers from the doctors conversing about the patient's conditions – which weren't good at all.

Upon seeing John walk in, everyone looked to him, and Renee. She instantly felt uncomfortable with having tons of eyes on her. John looked around to see if Dr. Halsey was present, but he couldn't spot her. He wondered if she was in the surgery, or perhaps still on the bridge with the Captain.

One of the doctors, an older man with graying hair and glasses, approached John, Renee and Amy.

"Can I help you?" he asked, seeming quick and almost impatient.

"Yes," John said, looking down to Renee, "She fell and hit her head, and is feeling a bit faint, and she's also got a plasma burn on her arm."

"Ah," The doctor replied, "Alright, bring her over here please."

He walked over to the closest vacant bed and gestured to it. John gently set her down, and tried to get her to lie, but she refused and folded her arms on her chest.

The doctor whisked away, probably to get the necessary equipment to treat her, giving them a moment's privacy. John leaned down in front of her.

"I hate hospitals, even these kinds of ones," Renee muttered miserably, "I want out of here as soon as possible."

Amy sat down next to her.

"I was here for a long time when 'K…" she stammered, and caught herself on almost saying 'Kolsamee's name, "When that Elite whacked me in the head."

Renee noticed her friend stammer, but she decided to ignore it and only let out a groan of despair in response to what she had said.

"If it's what it takes to make sure you're fine, it's alright," John said softly, and then he gestured to Amy to hand him his helmet. She did uncertainly, and he took it and rose to full height. Instantly, Renee and Amy knew what he was up to.

"You're not leaving!" Amy declared, glowering up at him.

"Yes, I am," John said sternly, pausing from putting his helmet on his head, "You stay here and keep Renee company."

"But…" Renee looked up into his eyes, "I…"

He leaned in quickly and kissed her, both of them savoring it, although it lasted merely a second. When Renee opened her eyes his helmet was on and he looked eager to leave.

"Listen here, we had an agreement…" Amy started, but suddenly Captain Thomsen's voice came over the ship's loudspeaker.

_"Would Master Chief and Lieutenant Fisher please report to the bridge, I repeat, Master Chief and Lieutenant Fisher, to the bridge immediately."_

Amy sighed, looking defeated. Renee was concerned about both John and Troy being called to the bridge at the same time, but she didn't say anything. She was ultimately frustrated with his refusal to receive treatment.

"I have to go," John declared, shrugging slightly at Amy, and then he turned on his heel and left the room. Amy sighed again, and shook her head.

"What are we going to do with him, huh?"

* * *

John and Troy marched onto the bridge, both still donning their battle armor – John's being a lot more bloodied and dirtied up than Troy's. The Master Chief and the Lieutenant, despite their quarrel earlier that had taken place here, both stopped in front of Thomsen and Dr. Halsey and saluted crisply at the exact same time, Troy's face almost as maturely serious as John's.

"Sir, Ma'am," they both said in sync.

For what reason they had both been called here they were not sure of. As they stood at straight attention, still saluting, Dr. Halsey and Thomsen exchanged musing glances that neither John, nor Troy was sure of.

"At ease," Thomsen replied, getting to his feet and folding his arms behind his back, "Before I begin, I must note the two of you look to be tolerating each other exceptionally well since the last time we witnessed, I praise you both."

"Thank you, sir," John and Troy said again, still in sync. Troy shot a glance to John, finding their unison slightly annoying, but he didn't say anything else.

"I originally contemplated calling you two here separately, but Dr. Halsey suggested otherwise, it seems her predictions on your improvements are correct," Thomsen said, and then he paused for a moment, looking back at Dr. Halsey, who looked weary, but she managed a little smile. He returned it, but when he faced back to the two men, his expression hardened, to a point where it almost looked painful, and he continued:

"So we lost Lacerta."

"Much to our regret, sir," Troy was quick to answer first, "We fought hard, tried our best, but once again our efforts were useless against them. I believe this time was that we were too late, and had not enough ground support, sir."

"You sound like the A.I," Thomsen answered thoughtfully, giving a nod towards Keira, "But yes, I suppose it's a theory that's close enough to providing us with an answer besides the fact that the Covenant are getting just too damn good." He paused, studying Troy's misshapen nose, "Junior Lieutenant, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your nose?"

John instantly looked to Troy, wondering if he was going to mention Renee, and Troy strangely enough looked into his visor, and then looked to Thomsen.

"A foolish accident, sir," Troy raised one eyebrow; "It was raining this morning, and I slipped getting into the troop transport," and after he saw Dr. Halsey's concerned expression, he added, "It's nothing serious, it barely hurts anymore."

"Ah," Thomsen nodded.

"Do be more careful, Lieutenant Fisher," Dr. Halsey scolded him, although she looked worried.

"Yes ma'am," Troy replied with a little smile, and he glanced to John, his expression smug. John could read it easily though, it was basically saying _"And you thought I was going to rat Renee out."_

"Now, Master Chief," Thomsen declared, looking to the Spartan, who stood straighter and responded appropriately with a crisp 'Sir'.

"Dr. Halsey has already received a message from Kelly-087, stating that you… would you mind reading it exactly, ma'am?" Thomsen turned to the Doctor, who nodded and looked to the holographic screen.

"_John brilliantly led James, myself and the marines he was teamed with into battle with the usual bravery and diligence he__'__s known for. Even after going through a Pelican crash, he never faltered. Despite losing the battle, James and I enjoyed being teamed with him, and hopefully look forward to being with him again sometime soon. Kelly_," Dr. Halsey read, and raised her eyebrow thoughtfully at him, "Good work."

"Thank you, ma'am," John replied.

"No one was injured during the Pelican crash?" Thomsen asked both Troy and John.

"Only minor scratches and bruises, sir," John answered quickly.

"117 played a heroic role in the crash, if you don't mind me sharing," Troy glanced up at John.

Oh, John minded a lot. The last thing he needed was for Dr. Halsey to suspect he was injured… it would only worry her more. The doctor was looking frail lately, and the last thing she needed was to be worried about him. Before John could protest, well really how could he – Dr. Halsey bet him to the punch.

"Please, do tell!" Dr. Halsey looked interested instantly.

"While we were going down, Private Kilburn fell out of the Pelican," Troy announced, "She had barely fallen two feet, and John leapt out after her. At first, I thought he was crazy, and everyone thought both of them would be dead, but he saved her…"

John was glad for his visor, because he wasn't sure what his expression looked like at the moment, as he watched Dr. Halsey's instantly convert into one of concern.

"How far did they fall?" Dr. Halsey asked Troy, for she knew that John would avoid any cause for alarm and make the event seem less serious than it had been.

"Must have been over a hundred feet, ma'am," Troy went on, and John cringed, and all of a sudden the pains that were aching all over his body didn't seem so much in the background anymore. He didn't even want to think of how bad he'd be bruised up. Dr. Halsey would know it, too.

"John!" Dr. Halsey said sharply, looking to him over her glasses, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, ma'am," John answered sternly.

But Dr. Halsey fixed him with a look that made him feel instantly trapped. He hated the attention he received when he was injured. He preferred to bite the bullet and heal normally, without anyone else's help.

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent, ma'am."

She looked at him for a long time, but didn't respond.

"Now," Thomsen went on, realizing the issue between Dr. Halsey and John might proceed privately, "It has come to my attention that we lost seven marines in the battle."

"Seven?" Troy echoed, looking bewildered, "I thought… only four…"

"Four in the initial ambush, Fisher," Thomsen filled him in, "Three later when the teams ventured into Zarunai. One of them being Lieutenant Boudreau."

"Boudreau?" Troy instantly looked bewildered, and searched for something else to say, but he couldn't come up with anything, so he just lowered his head in respect, his face saddening. It was almost surprising to see a different emotion on his face.

Lieutenant Boudreau, John had noticed, had acted as Troy's mentor. Being a full Lieutenant, he always seemed to have Troy under his wing and be offering him advice and tips. He had seen them on several occasions talking to each other.

"I'm sorry," Thomsen said solemnly, resting his hand on Troy's shoulder, "I know what he meant to you. He'll be missed."

Troy just nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the floor. It was silent on the bridge for a moment, and John felt sorry for Troy as well. He knew well enough what it was like to lose a fellow comrade. He had lost Sam, back when he was fourteen, and the blow had affected all of the Spartans.

After a moment, Troy spoke, his voice low:

"Will there be a memorial ceremony, sir?"

"Yes, later on this evening," Thomsen answered quietly.

"I see," Troy swallowed and nodded, looking up from the floor for the first time, "I will most certainly be attending, sir. Now, if you have nothing else to inform me of, might you excuse me?"

"Of course," Thomsen replied understandingly.

Without another word, Troy saluted, then turned on his heel and left the bridge.

"Poor kid," Thomsen declared with a sigh, "Boudreau was like a teacher to him."

"He was his instructor during training," Keira added quickly. She was obviously viewing Troy's file mentally, "For years, in fact."

John stood there, unmoving, feeling Dr. Halsey's eyes on him. Thomsen, however, relieved him when he told him he could leave. John saluted, and turned and left the bridge, and when he did, he felt a little better, although he knew Dr. Halsey didn't believe him… just like Renee.

* * *

He went to the armory, where, with a help of technicians, he got out of his mud-splattered armor and into a plain uniform. The technicians saw his wounds, and mentioned something to him, but John didn't really listen. He avoided looking at them, and shrugged them off with another "I'm fine". As he left the armory, he could feel their eyes on his back, and he wondered if his limping was even more noticeable. He knew he was limping, even Renee had seen it. He hurried down the hallway to the showers. He felt dirty, sweaty and sore. Hot water would hopefully help his aching limbs.

The showers were bustling; unlike they had been the last few times. He knew he had to shower and shave, but instantly he felt self-conscious, which he rarely did. He knew those wounds would catch everyone's eyes. The technicians looking at him had been enough, so John stopped in the doorway for a moment to think.

He rubbed his face, and could feel the slight prickles of facial hair, but ultimately sacrificed his shower and shave and left. He would go there tonight, when no one would be there, when there would be no one to gawk at his wounds.

Now, he decided to go to his room. He would check back on Renee a little later and maybe go to the cafeteria. He was starving, but his tiredness overwhelmed that, so he double timed it to his room, and felt relief when the doors hissed closed behind him and he could be alone. It was his own sanctuary.

John let out a sigh, and removed his shirt, and tossed it on the bed and then sat down, looking down at himself. It made him wince, his chest was covered in bruises, and they stood out against his pale complexion. Right around his solar plexus, the skin was tender and swollen, and a sickly color of reddish purple. A couple of prods informed John that he easily had two broken ribs. The moment he touched the area, pain shot through his chest and made him suck in a breath of air and clench his teeth. Eventually the pain passed. He had had worse. No doubt this injury was from that kick he received from the Elite. They had hooves like horses, although the kick was even more powerful. He had no doubt that if that same thing had happened to a marine, it would have shattered their entire ribcage and the broken bones would have pierced the vital organs.

His arms were covered with bruises as well, and by the tenderness of his legs, they were too. John hadn't a good chance to look at his feet when he had dressed – those were the things that were causing his injury to be the most obvious – and he took off his size fifteen shoes and peeled off his socks. Both of his feet were swollen and bruised, his ankles had swollen to nearly the size of his upper forearms.

That's why he had been limping, it was no mystery now.

The human foot contained twenty six little bones, and John didn't have to be a doctor to figure out he must have screwed up a fair lot of them. His left foot was particularly sore, and it hurt to move it – he couldn't even curl his toes. His guess was that a torn Achilles tendon came into play there.

For a moment, he reminded himself to _never_ jump out of a Pelican again, but then he thought, if he hadn't jumped today, Renee would be dead. John changed his opinion immediately. He'd jump a thousand feet to try and save her.

He knew that thought was ridiculous, but he knew Renee wasn't a Spartan, and it had been proved well enough already, that if he had never met her, she'd be long dead by now. It was his own personal mission, he decided, to keep her alive.

Death was something; John knew well enough, that _could_ be prevented, although it was also fate. When it came your time to die, nothing would be able to save you. You would just die. When Renee had fallen, it _hadn__'__t_ been her time to die, and he had saved her.

John made a mental decision that he would never let her die, ever. Even if it meant jumping in front of a plasma bolt, getting in the way of a grenade, or taking the bone-shattering blow from a Hunter, even if it meant his own death.

At that moment, the doors to his room opened, and he whipped his head up, only to see Renee standing in the doorway. He hadn't expected to see her that early, or for her to come to his room. He instantly became aware of his wounded chest, and misshapen feet were in plain view. She met his eyes, though, and took a step forward to allow the door to close behind her.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"Hello," Renee spoke first.

"Hello," John echoed, straightening his posture a little, "What are you doing out of the medical bay so soon?"

"They redressed my forehead," Renee explained, putting her hand up to the fresh new bandage, "Gave me painkillers, and treated the burn on my arm, but wanted to do further tests and x-rays, but I knew I was fine, so I left."

John at first, had the right mind to tell her to go back there, but something about her attitude made him smirk. She was as stubborn as he was.

When he didn't reply, she continued:

"I thought I'd come and check on you… and I brought this," Renee held up a first aid kit, and smirked a little, "Snatched it off the wall when no one was looking."

John smiled, appreciative of her kindness. He didn't want to be seen by any doctors, but to be cared for by Renee, well, he couldn't really object to it. She walked over and sat down beside him on the bed.

"Thanks," he said lowly.

"It's the least I could do," She shrugged, and paused from opening the first aid kit when she saw his chest. Her eyes widened noticeably, and she whispered, "That's horrible… and your feet… no wonder you were limping."

"I'll heal," he said. She looked down to the first aid kit for a moment, contemplating on how to treat his wounds. After a moment, she laughed.

"My memory on first aid is a little foggy," she admitted, "But that wound on your chest is it from when the Elite kicked you?"

"Yes," John looked down.

"Thought so," she said, pursing her lips. She then proceeded to take out a bottle of iodine, and she poured it on a fairly large piece of gauze, and then got down on her knees, so that she wouldn't have to bend over to see the wound. She blushed momentarily, realizing the suggestive position, but John didn't get it.

"This might hurt," she announced.

"Bring it on," he answered, "Nothing I can't handle."

She tenderly placed the piece of iodine soaked gauze over the gaping laceration on the middle of his chest. John let out a little hiss and clenched his teeth, but he had most definitely felt worse pain than that.

"Sorry," she whispered apologetically, and then she grabbed the roll of bandages and began wrapping them around his chest. His chest was so wide around; it reminded her of a tree trunk. She had to lean over really far, so her cheek touched his pecs. She blushed, but didn't say anything, but couldn't help but notice that it didn't feel like muscle, it felt like stone.

She lifted her face away and wrapped it around again, and again.

"Let me know if it's too tight," she said. She glanced up to John, and saw he had a little smile on his lips, but he didn't say anything. Around about the tenth wrap – she wanted to make sure it was secure – she grabbed the medical scissors and cut it, then took one of the pins to hold it in place, and leaned in further just to make sure she put it on right, when suddenly, she heard a loud shriek from behind her.

She jumped, and dropped the pin on the floor, and whipped around, only to see the back of Amy's head, a frizzy mess of red hair. Her hands were raised in the air and she was turned away like she had seen something frightening.

"Amy!" Renee cried, confused.

"Oh. My. God." Amy breathed, not turning around, "When I told you to try and make John feel better, I didn't mean in _that_ way!"

Renee's mouth fell open, realizing immediately what her friend was thinking. She had came in the room, to only see her kneeling on the floor between John's legs…

She shot to her feet, and glanced back over her shoulder at John, who looked terribly confused. He met her eyes momentarily and raised an eyebrow. Renee flustered and turned back to Amy.

"Amy it's not what…" she began, but Amy shook her head.

"It's not that I'm not happy for you," she interrupted, "But I didn't need to see that!"

"Amy!" Renee cried, and she pulled her friend around to face her, and Amy instantly looked to John, whose expression was almost comical. She glanced down and saw what Renee had actually been doing.

"Oh."

"Yeah; oh," Renee said flatly, glaring at her friend.

Amy laughed, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. She bit her lip and looked apologetically to Renee, and at John, who was still looking confused, and declared, "If you saw it from my angle, you would have thought the exact same thing, Renee. But, oh my god, for a moment there I thought you were actually…"

She trailed off, and a smile came on her face.

"Okay, I get it," Renee was getting annoyed, despite her red cheeks, and she folded her arms on her chest, "What do you want?"

"Yes, exactly," John agreed, still without a clue.

"I was just coming to check on you guys," Amy shrugged, "And I was going to ask you if you were up for going to the gym, but judging by John… I don't think he looks up for it. Your feet are huge… well like normally but they're swollen," she pursed her lips, and winked at Renee and said lowly, "Big hands, big feet, you do the math."

Renee stared at her friend.

"You're on a roll today!" she shrieked, "Now if you're done, I'd like to get back to finishing bandaging John's wounds. I might see you later in the cafeteria or something, okay? Go take a shower or something."

"Okay, okay," Amy sighed, rolling her eyes, grinning, and she headed for the door, "I'll see you two later. And John? Nice six pack."

She left the room laughing. When the door closed, Renee turned around to face John, with a bewildered expression on her face.

"I am so sorry for that," she declared, as she walked over and retrieved the pin off the floor, "I don't know what is up with her today."

"It's alright," John looked at the door then back down to Renee as she finally put the pin in place to hold the bandages closed, "I didn't understand any of that. What was she going crazy about?"

"Nothing," Renee shook her head, biting back a laugh, her cheeks getting pink, "Trust me, it's better if you don't know."

John laughed, as Renee got up and sat down beside him.

"Alright," he quirked his eyebrow quizzically, but he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It lasted for a while, containing the passion that had welled up in them for the past couple of days that they hadn't been really able to get out.

John leaned forward a little bit more to deepen the kiss, but felt his ribs smart, and he pulled back to let out a little grunt. He closed his eyes for a moment, putting his hand over the wound.

"I guess my movements are a little restricted," He said with a little laugh.

"Don't worry about it," Renee said quietly, "I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore."

John let out a sigh, and he pulled himself up fully on the bed, crawled back a little and laid his head on the pillow. It felt great to lie down. He gestured to Renee, who was still sitting.

"Come here," he told her.

She crawled over to him, and he pulled her down, and beckoned her head to his chest. Renee didn't want to hurt him, so she laid her head down gently. His arm wrapped around her protectively, and they both laid there for a while, not saying anything.

Renee could hear the steady _ba-bump_,_ ba-bump_ of his heart beating. It seemed quicker than an average human's, but she wasn't sure if it was because he was a Spartan or just because of the current events.

"I can hear your heart beating," she announced, her voice coming out small.

"Good, I'm still alive," John chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. He moved his hand up to play with her hair, running his fingers through it as he thought. It was really soft. Renee snuggled closer to him, glancing up to his face. At that moment, it felt surreal. Yesterday, if it wasn't for him, she would have been dead, but she was here now, lying in his arms, in his bed, all because of him.

John glanced down and their eyes locked. He smiled slightly, and realized then how lucky he was to have her, how lucky he was to love her, and have her love him. They didn't say anything, but really, they didn't need to. Their eyes spoke for them.

He felt relaxed for the first time in days, and he let out a little sigh. As a last gesture, he lifted his head momentarily, and he kissed her forehead. Then he laid back and let his eyes close.


	18. Promotions

**Chapter Seventeen**

**[March 12****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_** - Slipspace]**

_It was dark, and John stood in the middle of a forest, with Kelly, James, Linda, Fred, and Will. The marines were there as well, all standing silently. For a moment he was confused; what was going on? What were they waiting for? John opened a private COM channel to Kelly, to question the team__'__s actions, but he got no reply, only static. He looked over to her, and she was standing exactly the same as the rest of the Spartans, head bowed, gun lowered, unmoving. What the__…_

_The Marines were the same way. He walked around to each one of them, speaking, calling their names, Renee, Amy, Troy, Josh, Kirk, Blaine, but they all looked at the ground and didn__'__t move a muscle, didn't even blink. Suddenly, his HUD flickered and failed, and instantly it was like John had been submersed in darkness. Without his HUD, he didn__'__t have his motion tracker, his team__'__s vital signs, his ammo supplies__ -__ was his suit malfunctioning?_

_Suddenly, he heard a roar and an earsplitting scream from behind him, and turned around just in time to see a blur, a flash of plasma, and Kelly__'__s body crumple to the ground. He yelled, and hurried towards her, but at the same time, he saw James fall. Then Linda, Fred, Will. They all grew limp and fell, blood and hydrostatic gel oozing from their armor._

_He went to scream, but it was like someone had ripped out his vocal chords. He saw a glimmer, a cloaked Elite. John moved his arm up to raise his assault rifle, but his limbs felt like lead. He heard the alien laugh, and it began to approach the marines. _

_No, not Renee! John turned, but it seemed to take forever, and the cloaked Elite headed straight for her, and he tried to warn her, tried to tell her, but none of the Marines noticed __–__ it was like they were frozen. The Elite approached Renee, and he saw the sickening whitish blue of the plasma rifle discharge, and in slow motion fly through the air towards her._

John's eyes shot open, and he awoke gasping, sweat beading his forehead. He glanced down, and was relieved to see Renee lying asleep in his arms, where she had been when he had closed his eyes. He pulled her closer to him, breathing heavily. He was glad that she was safe. The dream had been almost horrifyingly real, despite the unrealistic abilities of being unable to speak and his limbs being like dead weights.

He hated nightmares, and he was particularly worried about this one. Of course nightmares weren't real, but normally in his nightmares, John was the one who was injured or killed – not his fellow Spartans, not the marines, not Renee. It was like his defiance earlier towards death and his attitude being bent on keeping her alive came back to ironically haunt him.

Suddenly, before John had any more time to dwell on his dream, the door to his room opened, and he wasn't really surprised to see Amy come barreling in the room, wearing her full dress uniform, her face flushed like she had run the whole way. A few pieces of curly hair had come loose from her neat ponytail. She paused in her tracks when she saw the two of them on the bed, and smiled.

"Cute," she remarked, walking boldly into the room, folding her arms on her chest.

"What are you doing here?" John ignored her comment, keeping his voice low as to not disturb Renee, but he felt her stir in his arms, and a glance down proved that she had awoken. She met his eyes momentarily, but turned her sleepy attentions to her friend.

"Yeah Amy," Renee echoed groggily, "What are you doing here?" She lifted her head a little from John's chest as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. She blinked a couple of times, looking relatively calm, and she didn't particularly look embarrassed about her and John's position in which they'd been caught.

"Apparently you guys didn't hear the announcement," Amy said, coming over and sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch John's swollen feet, "You were sleeping through it, I guess. Anyway, the Captain just told everyone to attend the memorial service they're holding in the docking bay in fifteen minutes… dress uniforms; he wants everyone clean and proper." She gestured down to herself, but then self consciously batted at the few stray curls that had fallen out of place, and cursed quietly.

"Oh," Renee sat up, patting down her hair, "It must be for those marines who were killed."

"Mhm," Amy nodded, removing a bobby pin from her hair, swiping the stray pieces back and putting the pin back snugly in place, "Now I thought I would come and check on you two, and you'd better hurry, considering the time. Is it just me or are you both beginning to be late for _everything_?"

"Thank you for your briefing, Amy," John groaned, rolling over on his side, and he ignored the pain and forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, and muttered to himself, "Dress uniform…"

He slid off the bed and rose to his full height. He paused for a moment to stretch, the muscles in his back rippling as he raised his arms above his head. The girls watched, of course, and Amy made sure Renee caught her eye after John was done stretching. She half mouthed, half whispered something to her, but Renee was not yet fully awake and didn't try and figure out exactly what it had been. She knew though it probably was something to do with John's muscles.

John turned around abruptly, narrowing his eyes quizzically at Amy, having cleverly heard every word she had whispered. To him, it wasn't really a whisper, and not a challenge to make her out. He watched as she glanced down at his stomach and chest, but quickly she flashed her eyes up to his. She raised an eyebrow, her mouth falling open slightly. He cleared his throat, giving her a look that said things better than he could ever hope of putting into words.

"What?" she looked bewildered, "You heard me? Why I barely… I don't even think I said…"

John just shook his head at her and grabbed his rumpled shirt off the bed, aware that both Renee and Amy were watching him. He was amused, for he had heard Amy's comment, and never thought that anyone would be affected by him going around without a shirt. They were just _muscles_, he thought, furrowing his eyebrows. He was aware that he might be more toned than the average officer or marine, but he couldn't really understand the fuss and why their eyes were glued to him.

Apparently women were more interested in muscles than he figured. He thought back to when Amy had first arrived in his room when Renee had been dressing his wounds, and commented on his "six pack". He'd heard the term before, a common nickname amongst the marines. He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself as he tossed the shirt into the locker.

"You have intense hearing!" Amy squawked at his back. When John didn't respond, she looked to Renee, "Intense muscles, intense stamina, intense speed, intense hearing… what next? He's gonna fly?"

Renee laughed at her friend, and John glanced back over his shoulder at them.

"Sorry to disappoint," he muttered, smirking wryly, "I'm not _that_ 'intense'."

"Oh well, you have supersonic hearing, so that makes up for it, I guess," Amy pursed her lips, and then she looked to Renee, disappointed; "Now I can't even whisper."

"Whisper, by all means," John cocked an eyebrow at her thoughtfully, and he removed his dog tags and hung them on one of the hooks in his locker, "Just remember that I'll be able to hear you. Besides Private, you shouldn't be saying things that you don't want others to hear."

Amy's cheeks flustered a little, and she folded her arms on her chest.

"Yes sir!" she replied saucily with an equally saucy smile.

Renee finally decided to get to her feet, although the gloominess from sleep was still with her. Amy did too, and Renee shot a warning glance towards her, clearly seeing that she was flirting with John.

"Go flirt with someone else, please?" Renee gave her friend a little shove, a grin coming on her face.

"Oh you're just jealous," Amy squawked with a laugh, "You just want him to give you some _orders _instead of me… classified orders..."

John surprisingly was beginning to catch on to Amy's implications. He knew well enough by now that she was implying things towards his relationship with Renee – although he wasn't sure exactly what. He once again turned to face the two friends. Amy had a wide grin on her face… and Renee's cheeks were noticeably red. She bit her lip and shot Amy with a glare that could melt steel.

John decided it wouldn't hurt to humiliate Amy and put her on the spot and question her interesting choice of words. He stepped up to her, and she looked up at him with an impish grin still on her lips.

"What might these orders be, Smythe?" He questioned, putting on his authoritative expression.

"Oh you know," Her grin only got wider, "Orders to complete some _dirty_ missions."

"Define dirty," John narrowed his eyes, keeping his face absolutely serious. He wanted to see how far Amy would go. She didn't seem at all fazed. He glanced momentarily to Renee, whose eyes were wide in horror.

"Hmm…" Amy raised her finger to her chin and looked thoughtful, "Dirty having a figurative meaning, sir. Not dirty in the sense of mud and grime, but… you know. You're probably not very experienced in these fields and I'd be more than happy to tell you some tips for the next time you and Renee have a kissing fest."

"What the hell!" Renee screeched in disbelief.

John remained silent, his eyes fixed on Amy.

"I can give you some tips right now if you like!" Amy continued, her smile growing more devilish by the second. She avoided a punch thrown at her shoulder from Renee, and giggled slightly, looking eager to spew her "advice".

John sensed by Renee's reaction, that these so called tips wouldn't be proper, in fact daring, just like Amy's current attitude. He opened his mouth to say that he wasn't interested, but Renee talked first. She clearly had less self-control than he did and looked obviously embarrassed.

"Let's _go_, Amy!" She shrieked, shoving her friend towards the door, and she offered an apologetic look to John, "I'll see you at the service."

John nodded curtly, but Amy started up again, Renee's efforts to make her stop proved to be futile.

"The next time…" Amy started, slapping Renee's hand away as she desperately attempted to cover her mouth, "The next time you kiss her… use your…"

"Shut up!" Renee screeched, and she successfully shoved Amy out of the room and followed her. Just as the doors were shutting, Amy made one last final attempt, dodging Renee's muzzling hand and shouted rather loudly:

"Use your tongue!"

Amy's last words shocked him, and it took his brain a couple of seconds to register her words and what she had actually said and meant. Use his _tongue_? John could only stare, with an almost comically horrified look on his face as the door hissed shut. The last thing he saw was Amy's grinning face.

From outside in the hallway, he heard a loud smacking noise and Amy's cry of pain as Renee gave her a well-deserved consequence. John shook his head, furrowing his brows as he was clearly puzzled by the event and the "tip" Amy had just given him. He contemplated Amy's suggestion, even though he saw no logical sense to it. Without thinking, John momentarily ran his tongue along his teeth, his expression one of confusion. He rubbed his chin, assured that he could get away with attending the memorial service without going to quickly shave; he turned to his locker to get out his uniform.

"Why'd you do that!" Renee demanded in horror, walking quickly down the hallway, a few paces ahead of Amy. Her face was flushed a deep red, and her jaw was set angrily. At the moment, she didn't even want to look at her friend.

This was worse than when Amy had blurted out her and John's relationship to Kelly and James and the rest of the marines on Alpha team. Christ's sake, now she was telling John horrid tips!

From behind her, Renee heard Amy's footsteps quicken to try and keep up with her.

"Oh you _love_ me for it, and don't try to deny that!" Amy persisted, a smile on her face, "How would John know about freakin' tonsil hockey? He doesn't, and I know you did that with Troy – as disgusting as that was – but anyway, I assumed – no wait – I _know_ that you'd enjoy frenchin' John too! And it's not like _you _were going to initiate anything, so I thought I'd help you out!"

"You're so _vulgar_! I'm not like you, not one bit! I never thought you would honestly say something like that to him! Why, you think he's a friend, but you forget he's a friend with a _superior rank_…"

"He's _your_ lover," Amy added, catching up with Renee and forcefully linking arms with her, "Stop bull-shitting me. You'll be forever gracious to me when John utilizes my tips."

"I swear…" Renee started angrily, although she was noticeably biting back a smile, "I swear Amy…"

She made a sad attempt to jerk her arm free of Amy's.

"Look at you!" Amy roared, laughing hysterically, "You're trying not to smile…"

Renee was quite relieved that her room was just up ahead. She ignored her friend and bit her lip hard. Amy allowed her to unlink her arm from her own and watched as Renee quickened her pace down the hallway, making a b-line for her room.

"I'm getting changed!" she announced, not facing her.

"Renee…" Amy teased, laughter dancing in her voice.

"I'm getting changed!" Renee repeated, and she rushed into her room, and she was glad when the door closed behind her, where she was alone. She exhaled, and allowed her face to show what it had been hiding, a big smile. She sighed, and held her hand over her mouth, walking towards the door, holding back laughter.

She composed herself quickly and dug out her dress uniform, which was neatly hung on a coat hanger in her locker. Renee undressed and shrugged into it, momentarily despising the stiffly pressed fabric. She had no medals to bear; although she had a golden pin stating that she was a Private, it wasn't really anything to be proud of.

Once she was dressed, she quickly combed her hair and pulled it back from her face, making sure to pin all of the pieces back and tying it into a little knot at the back of her head. She made a face at herself in her little hand held mirror – then threw it back into her locker.

She then took a rag from her locker and did a quick spit-shine on her boots, for it had been a while since she had worn them and they looked pretty dull. As she was finishing shining up her last boot and pulling it on her foot, she heard Amy knock on the door.

"Hurry up!" she called, sounding like she had been laughing to herself out there.

"I am, I am!" Renee answered irritably, and she ran to the door, and hurried out in the hallway, despite knowing she was going to face more torment. Amy was leaning against the wall opposite the room, had her arms folded impatiently. Renee looked down at herself and then back up at Amy, deciding to pretend the previous argument hadn't happened.

"Do I look alright?"

Amy walked forward and picked off a piece of lint from her dress coat, and flicked it away. Then she leaned back and smiled.

"There," she said, "You look fine, very mature."

"Considering it is a mature ceremony we're going to, that's a good thing," Renee noted, trying to make it clear to Amy that she didn't want the previous conversation to be brought up again.

"Yes, of course," Amy gave her a little grin, but didn't say anything more about it. Instead, she gestured off down the hallway with a sweep of her arm and declared, "Let's go then, shall we?"

* * *

Surprisingly Renee and Amy weren't late for the memorial. When they entered the Docking Bay, not everyone was there yet, only some of the marines and of course the officers and the Captain. Renee also spotted Dr. Halsey, her white lab coat standing out from all the dress uniforms.

As they walked closer, they fell in; both Amy and Renee were able to get into the second line. They struck the position of attention, and were quiet. The entire room was deathly quiet; no one so much as flinched.

Captain Thomsen stood at the front of everyone, wearing his uniform which was decorated with numerous medals. The higher ranking officers stood to the side, in their own line. Troy was among them, his expression one of chagrin.

As Renee gazed along the line, of course, there was one man who stood out from the rest. At first she didn't recognize him, but realized it was John. He was standing at the very end of the line, his posture stick-straight and his dark eyes were absolutely serious. He almost looked like he was going to kill someone.

But it wasn't his expression that caught her eye, it was his dress uniform. Even through the fabric, the muscles in his broad chest and arms stood out – almost to a point where he looked like he was going to bust out of it. His rank of Master Chief Petty Officer was clearly visible on his shoulders, and his chest was _loaded_ with medals. Every kind imaginable – ones Renee hadn't even seen before. She even spotted he had been awarded with the Purple Heart.

She was utterly amazed, and gently gave Amy a nudge, and the two exchanged glances, and then Amy looked at John, and a similar expression crossed her face – one of surprise. She met Renee's eyes again and raised her eyebrows, and then smiled. After that though, the two broke eye contact and stood at proper attention.

It took several more minutes for the last stragglers to join them – mostly marines, although one younger officer hurried up to fall in line with the others, his face red with embarrassment.

It was so silent, someone could hear a pin drop, and finally, the Captain decided to commence the memorial ceremony.

"Now," he said, lifting his head slightly, his voice carrying across the large room, "I do believe all of you know why we're gathered here today. We not only lost another colony to the Covenant, but seven of our fellow comrades – who were friends, brothers, sons, husbands. They had families, they had their whole lives to live but unfortunately had it stolen away by the Covenant. But they did not die pitifully; they died doing their job – defending Humanity. No, we will not dwell on the things that they never got to see, got to do – we will praise their heroic war efforts and look back and remember them for who they were, what they did. We will honor them, respect them, miss them, and most certainly _never_ forget them. Am I correct?"

Everyone answered in almost-perfect unison.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Renee looked around and saw some of the marines were crying, or trying their best not to cry. Even she, who knew no one who had been killed on Lacerta, felt a pang of guilt and sadness for them. Quickly though, she composed herself, and glanced over to John. His expression hadn't changed, he hadn't moved one single muscle in his face – it was almost unreadable. She knew though, that on the inside he would be feeling the necessary grief for those who had fallen.

She glanced among one stern face to another of the officers until she came to Troy. He was looking somewhere but not seeing. His bottom lip was puckered and he almost looked like he was going to burst into tears. He must have known someone who was killed. She too, found it odd though, that Troy allowed himself to succumb to the feelings. Normally, he would act like he didn't care.

"Now," Thomsen continued, and everyone's attentions went back to him, "Since we have lost one of our Senior Lieutenants today, Lieutenant Boudreau, I find it is only suitable that I select someone to hereby take command of his rank. At first, it was a trying decision, but suddenly it came clear to me who most definitely deserves it. He has come a long way, trained hard, and worked his way up the ranks. Although at times, he has exhibited some frustrations, he has never faltered in battle or in being a great leader. He knew Lieutenant Boudreau personally and I think Boudreau would have wanted me to make the same decision."

One of the bridge officers stepped up to his side, and held out the rank pin placed delicately in a box. Thomsen took it carefully, and turned and marched towards the line of officers, and stopped in front of Troy Fisher.

Troy met his eyes with somewhat of a shocked look, but didn't say anything, as Thomsen leaned forward and removed the previous pin of Junior Lieutenant from his uniform, and replaced it with the full Lieutenant.

"This was Boudreau's," Thomsen said lowly to him, "I have no doubts that you'll make a great Lieutenant, Fisher."

Troy struggled with his facial expressions, and tried to think of something to say, but was too shocked. He simply saluted Thomsen.

"Thank you, sir." He said, his voice momentarily croaking.

"You don't need to thank me," Thomsen said quietly, returning the salute.

Amy glanced briefly to Renee as everyone began to politely clap for him. She didn't dare say anything but their expressions said enough. Amy looked somewhat weary about Troy being appointed, but Renee for some reason, could feel no grudge, no jealousy. She was just happy for him.

Up in the officer's line, Troy's expression grew solemn, and even as Thomsen turned away, he continued to salute, trying his best to ignore the applause. For a moment, he didn't feel he deserved it; it didn't seem possible that he could try and fill Boudreau's shoes.

He realized though, that the Captain must know what he was capable of. He was trusting in him to make a good Lieutenant, and Troy was ultimately determined to make him proud, mentally deciding then and there that he would have to change, for the good. Start making good decisions, and he realized that there was one that could be done right now.

"Captain, sir!" he announced, and Thomsen turned around. He waved him over, and Thomsen came back. John, from down the line, watched out of the corner of his eye as Troy whispered something into his ear. He was able to catch several words out of it, and the Captain's response to Troy's question was just as he figured it would be.

For a moment, Thomsen didn't say anything, but then he nodded, and gestured for Troy to speak. He cleanly fell out and marched up to speak, Thomsen following closely behind him. He turned on his heel to face the marines, and stood at ease.

"I apologize," Troy said, his voice nearly as clear as Thomsen's had been, "This wasn't planned, but I personally think that it's absolutely necessary. Firstly, I want all of you to know, that as a Lieutenant, I will most certainly do everything I can to act like one. Some, more than others, know that my actions recently haven't been the nicest, smartest, or the most mature. I want to apologize to everyone, and hopefully you can forgive me and look up to me as a role model. I know I will never come close to being half the Lieutenant Boudreau was, but I will be the best I can be and work to make sure all of you stay in line and ultimately stay safe." He paused, and looked around, glancing momentarily to John, and then he face the marines again, "And, I feel what I am about to do is by all means deserved by those who are about to feel the consequences. There are two marines that I've known for a long time, and I admit they were the two that probably felt the worst of my immaturity. They are not only my comrades, but my friends as well. They've done an excellent job so far in this war, and should be adequately commemorated, and deserve far more than they've been given credit for. They're brave, smart and never been ones to give up, they are perfect examples of what a marine should be…" Troy trailed off, and glanced through the crowd. He finally found the two he was looking for.

Renee and Amy were both surprised well as stricken when he met their eyes.

"And they deserve better ranks than they currently have," Troy continued, a small smile forming on his lips, "Now, these two probably know who they are, and they don't need to come up – since this is an on the spot, split second decision, I don't have any pins to present to you as of the moment, but it will be taken care of." He paused, and then announced, "Renee Kilburn and Amy Smythe, I hereby promote the both of you to the rank of Corporal."

Renee and Amy's mouths fell open, and everyone turned to look at them, and began to clap. John, from a distance, almost allowed himself to smile, but stopped himself. He clapped graciously instead. They both deserved it, Troy was right. He had a feeling that from now on, there would be a change in Troy's attitude, and it wouldn't be for the worse.

Amy forgot about the needing to be silent and she let out a little whoop and yelled,

"Love you, LT!" She laughed afterwards, but Troy didn't say anything. He exchanged glances with Thomsen.

Renee glanced at her friend, feeling happiness well through her. She was a Corporal now, thanks to Troy. Perhaps this was a good sign; perhaps promoting them was his idea of a penance, to try and make up for his attitude. She found hard to believe, though. Was it possible that Troy – the one she had originally known, could make a comeback, and stay for good? And if it was, was it really a good thing?

Both she and Amy were congratulated by the marines around them with claps on the shoulders and quick handshakes. As Troy went back and fell in with the officers, Thomsen took the wheel again, and cleared his throat. Everyone whipped back around to face him, the room becoming instantly silent.

The ceremony ended with his congratulations, and he gave another speech about not forgetting the marines who had been killed, but it wrapped up within another ten minutes, and everyone was dismissed.

Renee and Amy wound their way through the crowd. Renee spotted John over everyone else and ran up to him, and Amy quickly found out Troy, and surprisingly gave him a big hug. Renee glanced up to John, who smiled kindly.

"Congratulations, Corporal," He said softly to her, deciding it wouldn't be best for the both of them to hug. Instead, he saluted her. She smiled and returned it, and then turned to face Troy, who was getting his neck squeezed by Amy. She was fanatic.

"You were such a big asshole but I knew you would come through!" she was saying, and Renee knew she was lying. She was the one who had doubts about Troy and reportedly hated his guts. Renee found it interesting how she could easily be swayed by just being promoted.

Troy pulled from the hug, and straightened, a smug look on his face.

"Congratulations, Amy," he said, pausing to straighten his sleeve of his uniform that she had successfully wrinkled. He looked up and met Renee's eyes, and cleared his throat. Renee didn't hug him; instead, she gave him a salute. She wasn't sure if she _could_ hug Troy even if the situation called for it. He'd have to earn her friendship back; she wasn't going to just go back to being good friends just because he had promoted her.

"Thank you," she said, keeping it solemn.

Troy gave her a little smile, and returned the salute. He leaned in closer to her, and spoke lowly:

"It's the least I could do. I know you deserved it, and I figured it'd be a good way to start off being a Lieutenant… by trying, well, beginning to apologize to you and Amy."

Renee nodded, but she didn't want the subject switching over to her.

"I think you'll make a good Lieutenant, Troy," she complemented, "Really."

"You think?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "I can only hope so. I'll try… though I'm nothing compared to Lieutenant Boudreau."

"You knew him personally?" Renee asked, slightly enjoying having a normal conversation with Troy. It was almost as normal as the one had been before she had broken his nose. At this, she studied his nose, which didn't look to be as much of a mess as before. A simple wad of gauze had been taped over it, and she guessed he'd gone and got the doctors to snap it back in place best as possible. From what she could see, however, it was still crooked.

"He was the one who trained me," Troy said, looking sad, "I'll miss him."

"It is a loss," Amy came in, "Shame about all seven of the marines."

John stood patiently back a few feet, with his arms folded behind his back. He knew he was excluded from this conversation, but he didn't feel like he should try and belong, either. Renee, Amy and Troy had been friends since they were children, and they had a special bond, and John didn't want to interfere. He knew that Troy was beginning to tolerate him, but he felt it was too soon to try and merge in. He didn't mind. It was comparable to his relationship with his fellow Spartans.

He was happy for Renee and Amy; Troy's actions seemed sincere enough. John wasn't particularly worried, for he knew that being appointed to a full Lieutenant had shocked Troy, and he would try and do anything to try and be like Boudreau had been. Boudreau hadn't harassed the marines, been unnecessarily rude and most certainly hadn't been immature.

Troy glanced up to John, and then back down to Renee and Amy, and told them he'd see them later. He excused himself and walked over to where Thomsen and Dr. Halsey were.

Renee and Amy turned back around to face John.

"Oh I'm sorry John, we kinda excluded you there," Amy said, "But you don't have to like Troy. I'm not even sure if I trust him completely yet."

John decided he had nothing to say to that. He glanced over and saw Dr. Halsey was watching him. He realized this was the first time she'd seen him with Amy and Renee other than that time Renee had fractured her rib. Knowing that she knew about his relationship with Renee, John felt a little bit embarrassed. Dr. Halsey gave him an assuring smile though, and John returned it.

"So, yeah," Amy folded her arms, looking at John's medals, "You're a hero fifty times over, I see."

"They're just medals," John shrugged. He hated the attention he received whenever anyone saw all his medals, especially when they would bombard him with questions and begin to treat him like he was Godly.

"You've even got the Purple Heart!" Amy went on, but Renee nudged her and slowly shook her head, sensing John's discomfort. She then met his eyes, and he smiled slightly. Amy was talking about _him _in his dress uniform. Renee, he thought, looked nice. She was very mature looking – and personally thought she even had more potential than just a Corporal.

He felt the urge to kiss her, but easily held it back. He couldn't kiss her, not here, not in front of Troy, Thomsen, Dr. Halsey and the others who still hadn't left the Docking bay.

"Let's go celebrate!" Amy declared, linking her arm with Renee, and she hurried up and linked her small arm with John's, "To the cafeteria! See if they got some treats for us. Alcohol would be nice, but only the officers get that good stuff – and very rarely… hey…" she glanced over her shoulder at Troy, "Since he's our friend now, do ya think he might smuggle us some?"

"Amy, no," Renee quickly protested, "We can't get drunk. Honestly, use your head."

"Okay then," Amy sighed, "Let's go to the cafeteria anyway."

John awkwardly walked with his arm linked with Amy's, and they left the Docking bay. He knew Dr. Halsey probably saw him, but she would understand. As he left the docking bay with Renee and Amy, he felt a strange happiness inside him he hadn't felt in a while. Despite his injuries and his swollen feet, he felt glad to have Renee and Amy with him. He made another mental decision that as long as he had anything to do with it; he wouldn't let anything happen to either of them.


	19. Tips

**Chapter Eighteen**

**[March 12****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules**_**–**** Slipspace]**

John, Renee and Amy went into the cafeteria and sat at their usual table. The room was unnaturally crowded, so it was a safe guess that there was something special on the menu for today's dinner. It _could_ have been dinner time, although there was no way to really know for sure when the ship was in Slipspace – though dates and passing of days could be roughly calculated, not to mention everyone's bodies knew the routine. Despite the general knowledge of time being absent, everyone seemed to stay relatively on track.

Amy was really bathing in the glory of being a Corporal, and she was unusually bubbly, and as she and the other two sat at the table, she looked like she was too jittery to sit – almost like a person with ADHD who had been given several cups of coffee. This was incredibly noticeable, since Renee and John sat calmly, almost motionless. Beneath the table however, Renee was gently playing with John's fingers.

"I'm really hungry," Amy spewed out her words like a volcano does lava, "Can I get you guys something? You don't have to get up, just tell me what you want. Second thought, I'm almost too excited to eat, but I mind as well anyways. What can I get you two?"

"A bottle of water and an energy bar," Renee shrugged. She didn't have much of an appetite.

"You're no fun," Amy said, getting to her feet, and she flashed her eyes over to John, carrying an appearance of some young peppy waitress, "And you, Master Chief?"

"The same," John replied, "Thank you."

"Okay then," Amy seemed dulled by her friend's uninteresting choices, but she sauntered off into the crowd of bustling marines.

"She's really happy," Renee said, pursing her lips, "Almost too happy. Did you notice how she was acting towards Troy?"

"Hmm," John nodded, narrowing his eyes in thought, "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I," she agreed, "I'm glad, I thought I was the only one. I mean, he tried this whole nice-guy act before on Lacerta, and you know what happened afterwards. Troy doesn't like you, and as long as I'm with you I doubt he'll change. He's only going to act nice when there are people to see him, just you watch."

"He may not like me," John answered, "But I think being promoted to a full Lieutenant has changed him in some way. It surprised him for Captain Thomsen to give him that rank – I could tell. I think he feels now that he has to do a good job now that's he's been given that honor. Remember, ranks can be stripped as easily as they can be given… and I don't think Troy will want to lose this title."

"I suppose, but he's not going to have my trust for a long while," Renee sniffed, "No matter how much he sweet-talks Amy and I. I was stupid enough to believe him the first time. I don't normally give second chances."

"You weren't stupid," John said quietly, "It makes sense that you thought you could trust him – you've known him almost your entire life."

"Yes, well, I should have been more careful and cautious."

"It's over and done with. Don't go beating yourself up over it. The actions you take today, and every other day afterwards are what matter now," John gave her hand a little squeeze, "The future. Not the past. If everyone dwelled on their regrets, it'd be a fairly miserable place."

Renee gave him a little smile.

"Thank you," she whispered. John was always good to try and boost her morale, with advice that made more than enough sense. He returned the smile, but looked up as Amy returned. She had a tray, loaded with her own meal and John's and Renee's snacks balanced delicately on it as well.

"Here," she said, picking up the energy bars and sliding them across the table. She tossed the water bottles, Renee fumbled with hers momentarily but John snatched it out of the air in the blink of an eye. Amy paused for a moment with her mouth agape before sitting down.

"I wish I could have gotten that on tape," she looked amazed.

John didn't seem to understand her amazement. He figured by now that Amy would be well aware of his quickened reflexes, but her reaction came as a surprise and he chuckled slightly.

"I'm envious," Renee huffed, opening the cap of the water bottle with a sharp crack, "I nearly dropped mine."

John said nothing, for he knew there wasn't any advice he could offer her this time. Her reflexes couldn't be improved to anything close to his own.

Amy laughed at Renee, pointing her finger at her before picking up a bag of chips from her tray and opening them. Renee rolled her eyes and took a drink of water.

"So," Amy began, and Renee could tell just by the tone of her voice that this was going to be another humiliating conversation where it would end up with her screeching at Amy to shut up and throwing lame punches and kicking her under the table. Coming to this realization, Renee groaned, and braced herself, muttering an "Oh God," beneath her breath.

John looked down at her, and beneath the table, he took her hand with both of his, giving it another squeeze. He could feel her hand had grown tense, and he felt sympathy for her. He knew well enough what was coming too.

"Did you think over my advice, John?" the redhead asked.

Renee let her head fall forwards onto the table, not feeling much like eating her energy bar. There was nothing that could stop Amy; she was like the goddamned Covenant.

John decided approaching this scene with control would be the best way to handle it. He heaved a big sigh, allowing himself to calm down. He looked thoughtful, just to please Amy, and he reached forward and began unwrapping the energy bar, to stall the time.

"Uh…" He said, "Thought about it, yes. Considered it, no."

Amy looked instantly offended.

"Why not? I made it clear enough for you, didn't I?" she asked.

"I don't believe it's sanitary," John answered truthfully, his expression completely stern, "Considering the amount of germs humans carry in their mouths alone… it isn't healthy. Nor does it make any sense. It strikes me as rather ridiculous, honestly."

Renee, with her face still down on the table, bit her lip and tried not to laugh. Leave it John to give the factual and scientific answer. Though, she hoped that it would shut Amy up. She raised her head momentarily to catch a peek of Amy's face, and that almost made her laugh too. The poor girl looked like someone had just slapped her in the face, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in a perfect o shape.

"R-Ridiculous?" She stammered, staring at John like he was an alien, "Ridiculous? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

John hardened his expression by narrowing his eyes, not particularly pleased with her comment. He knew it was meant to be taken comically, but he had heard too many comments like that from other people who weren't his friends.

"No, I've just been fighting since I was 6," John replied, making sure he had a hint of annoyance in his voice, "I'm not at all familiar with normal civilian life."

"Sorry," Amy apologized quickly, "But come on, you haven't heard anyone mention it before? Have you _ever_ seen a romance movie? A sex scene? Please tell me you've been taught the basics about sex."

"The basics, generally, of course," John answered, feeling uncomfortable talking about this with Amy, "But hypothetically speaking, why would I need to know more than that? I'm a soldier, my job is to fight. We were taught about the subject because it's general knowledge. We were trained to be Spartans, not mothers and fathers."

"Okay, fair enough," Amy said thoughtfully, "But I'm not asking you to go get it on with Renee and have like fifty children, okay? I'm advising you that it'd be wise if you put a little more wood on the fire, so to speak. You're both adults, and you're _worse _than a couple of kids! You love her; you feel the passion inside of you, let it out! Get wild, John! Have some fun!"

Renee couldn't hold back anymore and she started to laugh. Amy sounded like some coach advising a player on what to do for the next game. At first, she had dreaded Amy's advice, but now it was getting just harmless – ridiculously comical. She decided to lift her head up off the table, and she wiped the hair out of her eyes and continued to laugh.

John looked at her, a smirk forming on his lips. No wonder she was laughing… this was embarrassing, but possibly the most humorous advice he'd ever been given.

"There's nothing funny," Amy folded her arms on the table, looking perturbed, "Grow up, RenRen, for Christ's sake. I'm doing you a favor, here."

"You're demented!" Renee shot back, feeling her face getting redder. This was unbelievable! She looked sheepishly to John, who surprisingly had a poker face. He met her eyes and shook his head slowly in disbelief.

"You're childish," Amy snapped, grinning, "You've got John; he's the sexiest thing in the universe. Whaddya waiting for?"

She looked to John, and tried to egg him on without words. After many attempts, and have John only look at her and not respond, she sighed and gave up, and looked to her food, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

Renee pulled her hand out of John's, feeling really awkward now. She knew he looked at her as soon as she did it, but she pretended she didn't notice and looked at the table, fiddling with the wrapper on the water bottle.

It was silent at their table for a long while, as everyone nibbled at their food. Amy looked particularly frustrated, for she was usually able to convince people – and having her influences not take affect poisoned her giddy mood. Renee, after taking a bite of her energy bar – which she found disgusting – Amy had gotten the worst flavor – she proceeded to tear the label from the water bottle. She crumpled it in her hand, and then with a surprising little grin, she tossed it across the table. It hit Amy right in the face.

"Bitch!" Amy cried, but she was laughing, and she picked up her empty chip bag plus the label off the water bottle and threw it back at Renee, who laughed. John, with a grin, snatched the two objects out of the air, and sent them back to Amy. Of course, the objects sailed faster and in a cleaner arc – and hit their target – bouncing off Amy's forehead and fluttering to the floor.

"Oh sure, defend her," Amy snorted with a giggle, the dull mood at the table completely behind them, "Thanks, John."

Renee glanced down at her abandoned energy bar, and then with a mischievous glance from John to Amy, she hurled it across the table, hitting Amy in the head. Amy let out a shriek of pain, and whipped around to watch the energy bar fall to the floor.

"What the hell?" she shrieked, not caring that people were staring, "You're throwing _food_ at me now? What did I do to you? Oh you're going to get it now…" she snatched Renee's water bottle up, and Renee cowered.

"No!" she giggled, but Amy flung it at her. Renee shrieked, and ducked, and John snapped his arm out and caught it before it could hit her, and he sat it down on the table so quickly it was like it never had been thrown.

"Oh, you're no fun," Amy glared at him, and he met her with an equally strong one, although a playful smirk was on his face. He knew that their antics right now weren't the most mature, but he was enjoying the moment.

Suddenly, however, when he looked up to one of the doors leaving the cafeteria, his mood was soured. He saw Troy come walking in the room, his new rank shining clearly on his uniform. He spotted their table, and John knew that he was coming over.

He felt like saying something, but he decided it'd be best to let Amy and Renee find out for themselves who was about to pay them a visit.

Renee saw him second, her eyes dilating in surprise. Her expression wasn't happy, but it wasn't angry looking either, John found it rather hard to try and interpret. She glanced over and met John's eyes, and beneath the table she grasped for his hand. He took it instinctively, their fingers intertwining intimately.

She smiled slightly, and then they both looked to Troy, who smiled at both of them and sat down beside Amy, who whipped around in surprise. She stared at him like he was something other than a human.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded, arching her eyebrow quizzically.

"Came to say hello," Troy answered folding his arms on the table, looking around at everyone and clearly noticing the wrappers, "Back to school, is it? Food fights?" He had a hint of annoyance in his voice but looked relatively pleasant. He had yet another fresh bandage on his nose, and the swelling seemed to be less.

"Renee started it," Amy was quick to snap, sounding like a little brat, "It progressed from there."

Troy raised his eyebrow at Renee, making an odd face, but he smiled after a couple of seconds ticked by. Renee had thought that he was going to gross her out for a moment.

"Now, now, RenRen," He scolded, "Act your age, not your shoe size."

She didn't say anything, and only gave him a weird look. Having Troy gone for so long and then to have him randomly waltz back thinking he was part of the club again was too awkward. What was wrong with him? She was sitting clearly beside John and he didn't look the least bit agitated.

"Troy, seriously," Amy turned to look at him, "You've treated us like shit ever since we've joined the UNSC, then today you magically switch over to the good guy and think you're going to be welcomed back into our open arms?"

His expression darkened, and he frowned.

"No," he answered, "Of course I don't. I know that you, Renee and Spartan must all hate my guts. I'm going to work for your forgiveness and I don't expect you and Renee to think me godly just because I promoted you."

John raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, cautiously watching Troy's features, looking for any signs that might indicate that he was lying. So far, he couldn't spot any noticeable faults or breaks in his expression.

"Well that's what it seems like to me," Amy said bravely, looking Troy square in the eye, "I heard about how you got that broken nose. How do we know that you're not going to do the same thing again? How can we trust you?"

Troy's face momentarily soured at the mention of his broken nose, and he glance slightly to the person who had made it that way. Renee gave him a slightly sympathetic look, before he turned back to Amy.

"Cause you can," Troy shrugged, "You know me, girls, come on. Ever since we were kids, we trusted each other with our lives… we all have each other's secrets, I got some of Renee's and yours, and you both have some of mine… like… you remember that time I smashed that antique plate, and I had to hide the pieces, and I was super worried that my mom was going to kill me?"

"Haha," Amy laughed, remembering the moment, "And she practically did, you loser. Grounded you for what, two months?"

Troy nodded with a sheepish grin, and he met Renee's eyes. She felt like smiling, but she avoided it. He glanced past her to John.

"Did you ever do anything stupid like that?" Troy asked him.

"No, sir," John remembered his rank, "I've done worse things by accident, although I'm not usually one to be clumsy."

Troy nodded, but didn't look particularly interested, and Renee saw this. His expression was borderline rude, and she sighed. If Troy wanted to change, he had a lot of work ahead of him. Beneath the table, Renee felt John's grip on her hand tighten to a point where if she had wanted to let go, it wouldn't have been possible.

"So are you excited?" Troy spoke to Renee directly for the first time, "How does it feel to be a Corporal?"

"Couldn't be better," she answered politely with a little smile, "At least I'm not at the lowest possible rank anymore. I won't be ridiculed _as_ much, I hope." As she said this, she recalled how she and Amy had usually been the victims of Troy and his friends.

"Yeah," Troy said, chewing on the inside of his lip, and he changed the conversation, "How's your head?"

Jeez, Renee was bewildered. So far it seemed all he had been doing was asking questions like a goddamn interrogator. She reached up and touched the bandage on her head. The wound beneath smarted a little, but she replied, "Good."

John noticed, and was a little uncomfortable with the way Troy and Renee looked at each other. There was a noticeable awkwardness between the two of them, and he was well aware that once, many years ago, Troy had been in his position, holding her hand. The mystery of their relationship made John want to know more about it, but at the same time he didn't.

It also made him feel like Troy was a veteran when it came to knowing Renee and Amy, almost like he deserved being with them more than John did. After all, he had known them long before John ever had, hell; John had only known them for several days. God, it had seemed much longer than that.

"Well," Troy said after a long beat, "That's good news, I suppose. You've always been the clumsiest RenRen, even when you were little. Always tripping over things, your own feet most commonly, if I remember correctly. There was that time where you almost smashed your teeth out… I should keep a first aid kit on hand whenever I'm with you," he chuckled, "Might want to take that into consideration too, eh John?"

"I can keep care of her," John said, his voice expressionless.

"Of course you can," Troy looked bemused but his tone was rather truculent. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, before glancing around at all three of them, "Well, I've got some things to do." He got up from the table, "I'll see _you_ later." He fixed his eyes on Renee, instead of anyone else, and then turned and left.

Amy met Renee and John's eyes.

"Creepy," was all she said.

It was late, and John, Renee and Amy, after spending a large amount of time in the cafeteria, were heading to their rooms. They were all beginning to feel the effects of the past few days, and were finally giving in.

Amy paused when she arrived at her room. She looked suspiciously at Renee and John, then down to Renee's room not far down the hallway.

"You're going to his room, am I right?" Amy asked.

Renee looked up to John, biting her lip, and then back to Amy. She shrugged.

"It's probably the plan."

"Ooh," Amy grinned mischievously, and she gave both of them thumbs up, "Another night together, how sweet is that. You know if someone finds you guys out you'd be in so much trouble… maybe… I don't know."

John didn't reply. Dr. Halsey knew, and he wasn't in any trouble at all. But Amy had a good point, if anyone else found out; they probably would have as much sympathy. The main person John had to keep out of it was Troy. Although he seemed nice enough at the table earlier, he could see through to the grudge that Troy still had against him. It still existed, the Lieutenant was still jealous of him and John doubted anything would ever change. He was well aware that Troy had feelings for Renee, even after everything.

Beside John, Renee stifled a yawn and fluttered her eyes sleepily. She was really exhausted, each of her limbs felt like they had been tied down with concrete blocks. She looked Amy, who was waiting for a reply from John, but soon she realized she wasn't going to get one, so she looked to her instead.

"Excited for what the night may bring, Renee?" Amy asked teasingly, receiving a sarcastic look from her friend.

"Oh yes, just thrilled," Renee said very flatly, glaring at her.

Amy glanced up to John, and gave him a wink. He smirked, and reached over and took Renee's delicate hand in his own. He squeezed her hand slightly, savoring the moment. He never really thought about it before, but just holding Renee's hand made him feel really… happy. When he was holding her hand, he could relax a little, he felt like he could protect her, and that she was safe from everything when she was close to him like this.

Instinctively to go along with his thoughts, he pulled her even closer, so that her arm was touching his. She bit back a little smirk, and avoided Amy's teasing look.

"You two are so awkward, it's cute as hell," she declared proudly.

"Thank you?" John raised his eyebrow, his tone questionable.

"You're welcome, and I meant it as a joke," Amy decided to make that point clear, because she wasn't so sure about John's expression. Being a Spartan, he probably didn't appreciate being called awkward, "Okay, let me rephrase that. You two are so shy it's cute."

"I'm not shy," John looked almost offended, "Imagine that, I don't think there can be such a thing as a shy Spartan. I don't recall ever being shy."

"Well, on the field you're not shy. You're daring and would do things that probably no one would even think about! But, it sure looks like shyness to me right now when you're not fighting! If you want to prove yourself to me, John, I want you to be daring on a special mission. Mission Use-My-Tips!" Amy beamed at him.

"Isn't his word enough…?" Renee asked quickly, feeling her cheeks growing hot.

"No," Amy snapped, "I gave you orders, John. Do them."

"Who's the Master Chief here?" John asked wryly, narrowing his eyes, "How about we call it a day, and Renee and I will see you in the morning, Corporal?"

Amy heaved a heavy sigh, but nodded in defeat, although her smile never left her lips. She glanced at Renee, and her expression was dancing with amusement.

"Okay," she grinned, looking to both John and Renee, "I'll see you two… tomorrow…"

She walked towards her room and the door hissed open, and she turned to walk in, and once she saw Renee and John had turned their back, she remembered about John's distinctive hearing, so she paused in the doorway, and poked her head out.

"The tips, John," she whispered.

Although Renee was oblivious, John heard every word. He said nothing, and kept walking down the hallway. His heart began to pound, and he really began to question himself. Should he?

His brain started working triple time as they turned down the hallway and were drawing close to his room. He felt his palms were getting sweaty, and he wondered with slight embarrassment if Renee noticed.

As they were approaching the door, his conscience kicked in. He was a Spartan. He wasn't meant to love, let alone take tips from marines about certain ways of kissing. But John always enjoyed trying something new, he liked a challenge. If he looked at it the right way, he could treat it like a mission, just like Amy had said.

Oh jeez, what was he thinking?

They walked into his room, and the doors closed behind them. Renee hadn't said anything for the whole walk there, and the awkward silence made John feel unsure. He bit his lip, and decided conversation would be good, but just as he turned around to face her, Renee was right in front of him, where she hadn't been a second ago. She looked up at him, with a little smile on her face.

"How's your chest?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

"It still hurts, but I've put it out of my mind," John replied calmly, despite his heart pounding in his ears. He turned away from her, and began to unbutton his dress coat. The medals jingled as he shrugged it off, and he put it away in his locker on the hanger. He also took off his necktie – he never liked those things – and put it in his locker as well. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress shirt and turned back to Renee.

"I just needed to get that off," he said, while he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

"Good idea," Renee replied, as she shrugged hers off as well, leaving on her dress shirt, "I don't really like dress uniforms."

"Neither do I," John answered, standing still like a statue. He wasn't sure what to do. For a moment, he considered forgetting Amy's advice. Forget it, a voice told him, forget it. It's not proper behavior. But then, he decided against it. Determined, he looked at her, allowing a little smile to come on his face, "I never got the chance to tell you today, but, you look very nice in the uniform."

"No I don't," she denied the fact with a wave of her hand.

"You do," John said, and his legs propelled him forward uncontrollably, until he was really close to her. She looked up at him, and neither of them said anything for a moment. John exhaled deeply, and slowly bent his head down to kiss her. Cautiously, he paused halfway, but was shocked when her arms went around his neck and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met, and John's arms encircled her. He put one around her waist and the other around the middle of her back, pulling her as close as possible.

The kiss instantly deepened, and John kissed her hungrily, fiercely, bringing one hand up to her face. He could hear her quick breathing, unlike she had done before. He knew she liked this as much as he was, so he decided right then and there as what to do. His tongue slipped between her lips, and instantly it was a new experience. An electrifying shock flew through the both of them, and he didn't feel Renee tense up, she melted against him, and he felt her tongue touch his own. It didn't make any sense, not one bit, but John was instantly addicted. She let out a little sigh, a sound that had an effect on him that he hadn't surprised. There was heavy breathing, and it took John a moment to realize it was his own - Renee's wasn't as loud. He reached up, curled his fingers through her hair, holding her tight against him as they continued to kiss. John could feel himself trembling, _trembling_, he never trembled. He'd seen a horde of Covenant charging him and hadn't trembled, not once. This girl, this little marine, making him tremble!

John took her by the shoulders, and shoved her backwards onto his bed, their lips only parting for a moment. She let out a little gasp as they fell onto the mattress together, limbs tangled.

He left her lips and went to her neck, kissing her pale, soft skin with the same amount of hunger as he had her lips. His hands, as if they were controlled not by him, moved down her body, over her curves, over the female body in which he was so unfamiliar with.

Her fingers ran through his hair, and slid down his back, feeling the muscles beneath the thin cloth of his shirt. He went back to her lips, and kissed her fiercely again, their hands fumbling everywhere in a frantic effort. She scrambled with his buttons on his shirt, and soon, it had been tossed to the floor. Her hands ran down his muscles, as he pulled her close, kissing her neck, both of them breathing heavily. He reached behind her and pulled her dress shirt free of her pants, and then pushed her back and began to unbutton her shirt, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't wait much longer, he heard no protests, so he pulled the last two buttons, and they came off, and went flying across the room. Renee gave a little gasp of surprise, but didn't care, as she and John both shrugged the shirt off. He instantly looked to her, and wasn't sure about the bra she was wearing, but didn't question, but he kissed her collar bone, running his hands along her bare skin. He kissed lower and lower, her stomach, her bellybutton – each kiss receiving a gasp from her.

He went back up to her face, and kissed her again, pulling her tight against him so that her skin was touching his own. He felt adrenaline pumping through him, his heart pounding wildly in his ears, and he put his knee between her legs and pulled her closer, and reached down to her pants, kissing her again. Suddenly, he remembered what Dr. Halsey had told him.

He broke free of the kiss, breathing heavily. Now he understood how easily he could get carried away, how his emotions guided him like he was an animal, not a human. He looked into her eyes, and he could tell by her expression that she was probably thinking the same thing.

"I got carried away," John said, almost frantically, realizing how close he'd come to doing what Dr. Halsey had strongly advised him not to, "We got carried away. I'm sorry… we…"

Renee bit her lip, the reality and embarrassment sinking in.

The memory of how she had hastily acted embarrassed her, their actions embarrassing them both. They both looked away from each other for a moment, catching their breath. John got off of her, shaking uncontrollably, and Renee sat up, trying her best to cover herself. She was shaking as well; the both of them were embarrassed, if not regretting their actions.

John tried to calm himself down, and he realized how easily he could have lost control and… well done something that could have affected more than just Renee.

"I'm sorry, about your shirt…" John stammered, as he heard Renee getting up to pick it up from the floor.

"It's fine, I don't care…" she replied quickly, her voice trembling. He looked up at her, as she nervously twisted the shirt in her hands. After a moments silence, she spoke in almost a whisper, not looking at him, "Why'd you stop?"

"I… I didn't want to," the words slipped from his mouth, "But I had to. I had to. Dr. Halsey warned me… she told me… genes… human and Spartan… the outcomes… unknown…"

"I see."

Renee didn't say anymore after that, and she shrugged her shirt on, buttoning it except for the last two buttons, which were missing. He heard her let out a shaky sigh.

"It doesn't change anything…" John spoke, "I want you to know I would have… I wanted to… I love you so much… I…"

"I understand completely," Renee replied, and she turned around to face him, and slowly walked over to him, and sat down on his lap, allowing her forehead to touch his. He pulled her close, reaching up and stroking her cheek. They kissed softly, and didn't say anymore for a long while.

After several minutes, Renee whispered again:

"I understand."

John leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. No more words were spoken after that.


	20. Unexpected Events

** Chapter Nineteen**

** [March 13th, 2535 ****– Halcyon Class _Hercules _- Slipspace]**

Even after Renee had fallen asleep in his arms, John found it difficult to sleep himself. He tried, but his efforts proved to be useless. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes long adjusted to the darkness, his mind buzzing with thoughts. He held Renee close to his body, the warmth the both of them created almost depleted the need of a blanket. John thought for hours, as time ticked on by, and his mind refused the proposal of sleep. He had been extremely tired, but the whole event with Renee had jolted him up, far away from the possibilities of hoping to sleep.

Renee was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and John was envious of her. He watched her peaceful face as she slept, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her face was free from worry, free from any negative expressions, and her beauty was plainly obvious. In his opinion, he was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, although he had never directly told her that. Something in him told him that if he were to tell her so, she'd deny it.

Well, she saw something about him, Amy even did as well. John personally thought he had average looks. He didn't find himself anything amazing, anything out of the ordinary. He wasn't ugly, but he didn't think he was "hot" as Amy so frequently described. Perhaps this was just how it was, people found it difficult seeing their own personal beauty.

John, due to his insomnia, finally decided it would be a good time to head to the showers. He gently, stealthily, lifted his arm from around Renee's shoulders, and she didn't even stir. He sat up, slipping out from underneath the sheets and getting to his feet. He turned around and made sure the blankets were tucked warmly around Renee so she wouldn't feel his absence, then quietly got a fresh uniform from his locker, and his personal kit containing his razor, shaving cream, deodorant and the other necessities, and slipped from the room.

As he walked down the hallway, it became clear to John that it must be very early in the morning. Not a single person was out and about, and the empty shower room as well confirmed this. John set his kit on the sink, his clean clothes on a bench, and removed his clothes. Grabbing the necessities from his kit, he walked into the shower, turned it on, and braved the few seconds of freezing water before the hot water kicked in. It was shocking, but it fully woke him.

Once the hot water came on, John quickly washed his hair and his body, and then enjoyed the rest of the water to think. As the water poured over him, his mind was busy with thoughts – most commonly of Renee.

What they had done, although John didn't regret it, he found himself feeling ashamed – like it was something forbidden that he shouldn't have done. He felt like he was a criminal and that he should turn himself in and receive the adequate punishment for his actions. Had they truly been wrong? Dr. Halsey brought it up, and she never told him he couldn't love, that he couldn't behave in the way that he did with Renee.

However still, it didn't seem right. John knew the feelings themselves were natural, but allowing himself to be controlled by them – which had happened to both Renee and himself – John thought it was unacceptable. He was a Spartan, and Spartans never allowed their emotions to control them.

"Damn," John whispered to himself over the running water. He ran his fingers through his hair, and closed his eyes. He had been showing too much emotion lately – way too much. He hadn't ever been this way for a long time, since he had been a six year old boy on the playground back on Eridanus II with his schoolmates. It was like Renee and Amy had changed him, like allowing himself to befriend them and love Renee, opened not just his feelings of love, but the whole caboodle. He remembered how he had gotten angry and thrown the concrete during the mission on Lacerta, and was subject to often having violent thoughts about destroying or causing harm to Troy in one way or another. He never had allowed his temper to go in that way before.

He wasn't sure what to do, exercise more self-control, perhaps. Venture back to his old self and not be as open with his emotions as before, reserve them only for Renee when they were alone together.

That might be the answer, but then again, it might not.

John let out a frustrated growl as the shower shut off. He paused momentarily to listen, to hear if anyone else had come into the showers, but he heard nothing. He swept back the curtain and walked out, quickly snatching up a towel and wrapping it around his waist, and then strode over to the sink to get out his razor and his shaving cream.

He did a quick job, but it proved to cost him. John was just finishing up a spot by his jaw line when he felt a sharp sting. When he drew back the razor from his skin, he saw blood oozing from a little cut.

"Great," he mumbled.

"Hurt yourself?" he heard a familiar voice.

John's eyes shot up, and he saw Amy standing behind him in the mirror. She had her clothes and her own little bag of things in her hands. He realized he was just wearing a towel, and sighed.

"No, just a knick," John answered, remembering to exercise his old self – keep conversation to a minimum. He knew though that Amy would probably have a load of questions for him, so he decided to ask her first, "You're up really early."

"Couldn't sleep," Amy walked up beside him and leaned on the sink counter, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "Lemme guess, you couldn't either? Or maybe you needed to take a shower because you were feeling a little exerted from some events that took place."

"The first suggestion," John answered, finishing shaving his face. He wiped his face on a towel, then proceeded to rinse off his razor.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" Amy looked at him with interest, and she elbowed him slightly, "Did you use my advice?"

John didn't say anything and continued to rinse his razor. Amy waited, and watched as he dried it off and placed it in his kit. He glanced up at her, and she smiled.

"Well did ya?" she pressed.

"Might have, might not have," John raised his eyebrows, "Classified."

"What's with the secrecy?" Amy put her hands on her hips, "Come on John, I'm Renee's best friend, and if you don't tell me, she will – at least I think she will."

"Fine then," John narrowed his eyes, "If it makes you so happy to know, I'll tell you. I used your advice."

Amy instantly beamed. She laughed lightly and reached up to clap him on the shoulder, but it was awkward due to his height.

"That's great! So, did she like it?"

"Now you're getting too personal."

"Well, you're not limping from a kick in the groin, or suffering from a broken nose like a certain Lieutenant we know, so I can suspect that she loved it," Amy grinned mischievously, "Renee's not as innocent as she looks. She knows a thing or two about what I suggested to you."

"I know, but I did more than she did," he answered truthfully, "Let's just say we got out of control," his expression darkened, "I had to stop myself."

"Stop yourself? Why?"

"We were so close," he struggled with what he wanted to say, "But I can't."

"Oh please tell me you Spartans have reproductive organs, 'cause if you don't, I'm not talking to you ever again!" Amy looked slightly frightened.

"We do," John rolled his eyes.

"Then why didn't you two get it on?" she was in a state of utter disbelief.

"We can't. Dr. Halsey told me; it's complicated, if Renee were to get pregnant, it's unknown what could happen. My genes have been augmented, they're different than that of a normal human's, different than Renee's."

Amy looked at him like he had two heads.

"Oh, John," she sighed deeply, and she waved him away, "Get dressed, and then come with me; I've got something to show you."

John furrowed his brows, but he quickly ducked into the nearest stall and got dressed in record time. He came out and barely had enough time to snatch up his dirty clothes and his kit bag before Amy grabbed his hand and dragged him – well he went along – out of the room and down the hallway.

They came to Amy's room, and she quickly darted in, and beckoned John in after her. He felt awkward, since he hadn't been in her room before. Standing in the doorway, he saw that Amy's room was rather messy, with clothes everywhere and her bed looking like a tornado had its way with it.

She rushed over to her locker, and John saw her pull out a civilian looking purse, and rummage through it for a moment. She cursed under her breath, until finally; she withdrew a small package, whipped around and held it out to him.

"Here," Amy thrust it at him when at first he refused to take it. She crammed the little plastic package into his hand, and John opened his hand to study the object. There was something squishy inside the package, and for a moment, a look of confusion swept over John's face as he looked down at it, rubbing it between his fingers.

"It's the miracle invention!" Amy beamed at him, "A condom."

"Oh."

"That'll fix your problem," she looked proud as if she'd solved a mystery, "I assume you know how to use it. If you don't, the directions are on the back. Pretty straightforward, and simple, but it does helluva job."

"Amy…" John started, and he tried to hand it back, but the redhead refused.

"You keep it, there's more where that one came from."

"But…"

"Are ya scared?" Amy demanded, "Like seriously, don't object, you know you want to. It'll be the best experience of your life – believe me."

"I trust you're speaking from experience?"

"Yeah," Amy shrugged, not at all fazed to announce it, "But Renee's not like me. She's in the same boat as you, never done it before. Although you might have to be a little easy on her. She's not a Spartan. Don't go smashing her through any walls or anything, okay?"

John sighed, and he put Amy's gift in his pocket.

Renee awoke in John's bed, in the exactly same position she had fallen asleep in. The lights in the room had been shut off, and it was deathly quiet. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she fell slowly into full consciousness, it became clear that she was alone. She reached her arm across the bed, to only touch the bare mattress. John wasn't there, and she hadn't even heard him leave.

She sat up, throwing back the blankets and forcing herself to her feet, feeling a moment's panic, but she quickly assured herself John would only be gone for a little while – probably to the bathroom or the showers.

Renee shivered as the cold floor proved brutal on her bare feet, and she quickly fixed her rumpled clothes – her dress uniform, dammit. The worst thing to possibly sleep in… but after she and John had succumbed to the awkwardness, they had both fallen asleep almost immediately.

Memories of the night before flooded her mind, and instantly she was embarrassed, despite the memories being pleasant. Strangely enough, however, they seemed almost surreal now. Too good to be true, too good to even believe. Without a doubt, Amy would be itching to know every detail, but Renee wasn't about to spill even a tiny bit to her nosy friend. Sure Amy had been truly the instigator of the event, but Renee was determined to keep it her own private secret between her and John, and she wasn't really sure if she could trust Amy to absolute secrecy. She had already proved herself to have a big mouth when she told Kelly and James about their relationship.

She walked over to the panel on the wall and turned on the lights, and she walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. Renee didn't quite like the appearance she saw in the reflection, she looked deprived of sleep, with dark rings under her eyes, and a half-frown on her mouth – but she couldn't be bothered to smile. Her hair was messed, half of it had fallen loose of the knot she'd put it in and she looked like she had just been a brawl, this fact helped by the bandage on her forehead. Her cheeks had color, though – bright pink – and it offered some contrast to her regularly dull face.

"I need make up," Renee mumbled to herself, and surprisingly disliked her voice as much as her appearance. Normally it wasn't permitted to wear make-up, nor was it really needed, but Renee and Amy had both smuggled their little compact cases of foundation powder and one stick of eyeliner – both of these were used sparingly and on rare occasions.

Renee glared at herself in the mirror, and spoke again:

"You're bloody ugly."

And with that, she turned away from the mirror in disgust. She wasn't by all means ugly – her looks had been complemented on ever since she could remember. Her mother had told her when she had signed up for the marine corps that it was a waste of beauty – she always had dreams that Renee would be a model or an actress – and was quite disappointed when Renee decided to become a marine instead.

Well, Renee thought, if she had become what her mother had envisioned, she would have never met John. But then again, it's not like John would compensate for her mother's wishes much either – the idea of her being involved with a Spartan would drive her to the nuthouse. He _was_ unbelievably handsome, but her mother still believed that she was with Troy, who in her eyes, was the perfect match for her daughter.

Renee laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head at thoughts of her parents back home. She hadn't seen or spoken to them in over a year now.

In mid laugh, though, Renee heard a slight knocking at the door – which she thought odd. Why would John knock? She walked towards the door, the realization creeping up on her that whoever was at the door might be looking for John, not her.

The door opened before Renee could access the panel, and as the doors parted, Renee came face to face with Dr. Halsey. Renee instantly whitened, and froze.

"Doctor," Renee said, her voice failing her and coming out small.

"Corporal," Dr. Halsey addressed her with a little nod. She raised her eyebrows, though she didn't appear to be particularly surprised about her being in John's room. Renee backed up a few paces as Dr. Halsey walked into the room. She felt her cheeks fluster as the Doctor looked at the rumpled bed sheets and garments from both her and John's wardrobe lying strewn on the floor.

"John's not here?" Halsey's voice was very business-like.

"No, ma'am," Renee replied quickly, wanting to dig a hole, crawl in it and hide. Talk about being caught with your pants down, "I'm not sure where he is…"

Dr. Halsey walked a few more paces into the room, surveying it. She closed the open locker door, and then stooped to pick up a small item from the floor. Renee realized in absolute horror that it was one of the buttons John had ripped off her dress shirt. She turned around to face her, looking curiously at the button in her palm, and then up at Renee, whose face grew ghostly white.

"Ma'am," Renee began, "Please, allow me to explain…"

"Stop," Dr. Halsey replied calmly, "You don't need to explain anything. I completely understand."

"You do?" she asked, not sure whether to feel relieved yet.

"Yes," Halsey smiled, and she held out the button to Renee, who sheepishly took it and shoved it in her pocket, "I do believe I was one of the first to know, after all, John came to me, confused about his feelings for you."

Renee's mouth fell open.

"Then you know?" she stammered unbelievably.

"Yes," the doctor answered, "That's why I wasn't surprised to find you in John's room."

"I'm sorry," Renee apologized, "It's not very professional of me. I swear to you, we're not…"

"Of course you're not," Dr. Halsey raised her eyebrows, "I've already informed John about that subject."

"He mentioned that last night actually," Renee bit her lip, "Didn't say much, just said something about genes."

"Well I suppose it wouldn't be the most comfortable subject for him to talk about, especially with you," Dr. Halsey explained, perching herself lightly on the corner of the bed, "But, it's a necessary precaution. When John and my other Spartans were augmented, their genes were changed. And if you and John were to have intercourse, and you happened to get pregnant, the results are unknown, since this circumstance hasn't ever happened before. The results could be a marvel to science, or a mutated disaster, therefore we can't take those risks until it's been thoroughly researched."

Renee felt embarrassed but nodded. Dr. Halsey sure talked like a doctor, no doubt about that. The way they were able to talk about personal, private subjects without so much as batting an eye was unbelievable, while the person they were talking to would be utterly embarrassed out of their mind.

"It isn't in my plans to get pregnant, doctor," Renee said in a small voice.

"Well it wouldn't be too good if you did, would it?" Dr. Halsey raised her eyebrow quizzically, "Perhaps once this war is over maybe, but not until then. John understands as much, although he doesn't really strike me as someone who'd want to settle down and have a family. My Spartans have been fighting since they were children themselves."

"Yes."

"John coming to me with feelings of love surprised me, truly," Dr. Halsey said with a sigh, "If I'd expected him to fall in love, it most certainly would have been with Kelly or Linda or any of the female Spartans, but to fall in love with a marine – you must really mean something to John."  
"I'm nothing special," Renee shrugged, "In fact, I'm just as ordinary as everyone else. Sometimes I feel that I'm more of a burden to John than I am a help," she raised her hand to the bandage on her forehead, "I'm so clumsy, I fell out of a Pelican, tripped and hit my head and got a plasma burn on my arm, in just twenty-four hours alone! I'm just another thing for John to worry about."

Dr. Halsey looked at her for a long time. She got up, and finally spoke.

"You're giving him love in a time of war," she said quietly, her expression almost looking pained as she headed for the door, "He has someone to understand him, someone to be there for him when he's not out wielding guns and completing suicide missions. Now, when John comes back, just tell him that I was looking for him, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Renee smiled slightly.

Dr. Halsey returned the smile, although it didn't look really natural, and then she turned and left the room.

John returned to the room about ten minutes later, and he found Renee awake and waiting for him. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking somewhat down, although when he walked in the door she greeted him with a smile.

"Hello," Renee said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Hello," John crossed to her, throwing aside his clothes and his toiletry kit - and he pressed his lips to hers, before she could say anything about Dr. Halsey's visit. Renee expected it to be just a casual kiss, but when John shoved her backwards onto the bed, Renee instantly became confused, but she blushed and didn't protest.

The kiss grew passionate, and John slipped his tongue between her lips, the taste even better than it had been before. She responded, but he could feel that she was unusually tense beneath him. She was probably just sleepy, he decided.

He broke the kiss for a moment, allowing his face to linger inches from hers for a moment.

"I love you."

He felt a new freedom now, with Amy's gift tucked in his pocket. As he continued to kiss her, slowly he felt Renee relax. Her kisses became more responsive, and when her arms encircled his back, he shoved her back farther onto the bed, making sure he was in-between her legs. His hands slipped up her shirt, and pushed it up past her belly button. He planted kisses along her stomach, and they aroused little gasps from her. He kissed higher and higher until the shirt got in the way. Of course, he swiftly ripped the shirt from her body, and threw it to the floor, his hands shaking. John pulled her face to his again, and forced his tongue once again between her lips, and she battled with his tongue, forcing his surprisingly back into his own mouth. This time, she explored him, and he was surprised by her adventurous attitude.

Her hands slid up beneath his shirt, across his abs, then she, with his help, removed his shirt, and John pulled her close to her, right onto his lap. Their faces were almost level, but Renee bent her head to bury her face in his neck, which smelled freshly of soap and… a hint of cologne? John ran his hands down her back, until he came down to her pants, and this time, there was nothing stopping him. He felt his hormones racing through his veins, and feeling like getting a little rough, he threw her down onto the mattress. She let out a little shriek, but as he unbuttoned her pants, and pulled them down around her knees, their lips met again hungrily. With one hand, he tugged the pants off, leg by leg, and when they were on the floor in a heap, John ran his hands along her smooth skin of her legs.

For a moment, Renee questioned his actions. Hadn't he said this couldn't be?

As almost like an answer to her mental question, he grabbed her hand and drew it inside his pocket. When her hand touched the plastic wrapper, their eyes met. Renee knew that he had probably gotten it from Amy, but she didn't protest. She felt nervousness sweep over her, but together they pulled it from his pocket. John pulled her closer onto his lap, and bravely she reached down to unbuckle his belt. She got it undone and she was just reaching for his zipper, when suddenly the loudspeaker came on, startling them both.

"_Would John-117 please report to the bridge,__" _it was Dr. Halsey's voice.

Their eyes met in surprise. Renee remembered that she should have told John and now, they had to stop when they were right here, so close.

The mood was instantly ruined.

John sighed, and he ran his hands down her face, and kissed her on the lips softly. The next few moments were of scrambling to redress themselves. John hastily did up his belt buckle and pulled his shirt on. Renee was still dressing when he got to his feet.

She paused from putting on her shirt, and looked up at him. They didn't speak, although John's eyes spoke enough for him. They were filled with longing and the desire to not leave, but he had his orders. He left the room, and when the doors closed, Renee let out a shaky sigh, and glanced down to the rumpled bed sheets, where the unopened condom lay where John dropped it.

John walked onto the bridge, self-conscious of his appearance. He walked up to Dr. Halsey and Thomsen, momentarily paused to tug down his rumpled shirttail, then snapped to a salute and greeted them both properly.

"I was by your room," Dr. Halsey said once John stood at ease.

"Really, ma'am?" John asked, and then he bowed his head in apology, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I went to the showers."

John realized that Dr. Halsey must have conversed momentarily with Renee, but she never got to mention it. He had dove into his longing too quickly to even allow her to tell him the news. He waited for Dr. Halsey to mention Renee, but she didn't.

"It's fine, John," she replied after a while, her face growing solemn, "I have some news for you - news that you probably won't like to hear."

"Ma'am?" John asked, raising his eyebrow. He frowned, and feared what the news may be.

"We're en route to Reach," Dr. Halsey met his eyes; "You and I are to leave the _Hercules_. The rest of your fellow Spartans are being rounded up as well. I'll tell you more later."

John was speechless, as the realization hit him. He was going to leave the _Hercules_. Leave Renee and Amy. He knew from past experiences of travelling on ships, that he'd come and go. He'd been on over twenty Halcyon class cruisers in the past couple of years, and not once had he been on the same one more than once. There was a fairly good chance that once he'd leave the _Hercules_, he might not see Renee again. Instantly, he felt panicked, but pushed this rising emotion aside, and hardened his expression, and found the strength to speak.

"Yes, ma'am!"

He watched as Dr. Halsey exchanged glances with the Captain, both of them looking solemn – like they were pitying him. John, for the first time in a while, didn't care about whoever was listening.

"When will we return?" he asked, keeping his voice low. He took a step closer to Dr. Halsey, appearing almost menacing, "When will we return to the _Hercules_?"

Dr. Halsey closed her eyes for a moment, and then she opened them and met his eyes.

"I don't think we will be returning, John, at least not for a long time."

John clenched his fists, said nothing, and broke eye contact, his eyes finding some place on the floor. Control, a voice inside his head whispered cautiously, show some control. After a long beat, John exhaled the lungful of air he had bottled inside him, and unclenched his hands slowly.

"I understand." He answered his voice hard, emotionless.

"I hope you can," Dr. Halsey said softly, "You can't stay here forever. You have missions to complete that you do alone, that you have to complete without marines. That's what your fellow Spartans are for."

John nodded, although he felt like someone was stabbing him right through the heart. Just the thought of having to leave Renee, where he wouldn't be there to protect her, wrenched his emotions into pain and grief. But he had to leave, that was his order, and he had to obey.

He had to swallow a couple of times before he could speak.

"When will we arrive?" his voice was hoarse, and he quickly cleared his throat.

"Soon," Dr. Halsey looked sympathetic, and she looked to Keira for the exact calculations.

"We'll be exiting Slipspace in approximately one hour, sixteen minutes, forty three seconds and counting," Keira chirped to life, "Once we exit, it will take about ten minutes to enter Reach's atmosphere, and twenty minutes for the Pelican to arrive at the Military base. Rough estimates for the last two, but you get the idea."

John nodded, but said nothing.

Of all things, why did this have to happen? John had known subconsciously all along that it was an event that was eventually going to occur, but having it happen so soon was a shock to him. Just when he was really beginning to realize what it was like to be in love, to feel the real feelings, he had to receive orders to leave.

How could he see Renee again? If he even could, when? Once he was separated from her on Reach, they would be light-years away from each other, with no possible contact. And when he'd be sent on another mission, it'd probably be on the other side of the galaxy. Being without her would be difficult; he would have no way to make sure she was safe. Just by her clumsiness on Lacerta, getting a plasma burn and knocking herself unconscious – on just one mission alone – made John sick with worry.

"I'm sorry, John," Dr. Halsey apologized, and then after a moment, she said, "You're dismissed."

John nodded, and left the bridge without even saluting. He felt the dread welling up inside of him as he headed down the hallway to his room, where Renee would be waiting, where he'd have to bear the news. He arrived quickly – despite wanting to stall out having to tell her, and when he walked through the door, he was somewhat surprised to see Amy there, and she and Renee were talking. He thought this was really _weird_, because if John hadn't gotten called to the bridge, god knows what Amy would have walked in on.

Amy and Renee turned to look at him as he walked in. Amy must have spotted the strange look that had seeped out onto his features, because she laughed.

"Don't worry, Renee came and got me," she said, seeming to read his mind, "I didn't come uninvited."

John was slightly annoyed upon finding this out. Why on earth would've Renee gone and gotten Amy, especially when she should have expected that when he returned he'd have the same intentions that he had before he left?

He ignored Amy, and walked past the two girls, and went to his locker. He reached down to the very bottom, where there was a camo green knapsack, the standard one every marine and officer was given – it was meant to hold their belongings. He wasn't sure how to tell Renee, so he pulled the knapsack out of the locker and tossed it on the floor. He then turned and grabbed the clothes and his kit that he had thrown to the floor and put them into the knapsack.

Amy and Renee exchanged glances as he turned back to his locker to begin taking other things out and putting them in the knapsack as well.

"John," Renee said, clearly confused, "What are you doing?"

"Packing," John answered, his voice coming out choked. He felt a moment's anger, but held it back and continued putting things in his knapsack.

"What?" she demanded, and she got to her feet, "Packing? What on earth are you talking about?"

He turned around to face her and Amy.

"I've just received orders," John said, clenching his jaw, "To leave the _Hercules_. I'm going with Dr. Halsey to Reach."

He painfully watched as both of their expressions – Renee's in particular, turned into ones of shock. Renee's mouth fell open, and she looked like someone had slapped her in the face.

"Just - just you?" her voice instantly grew small.

"Just me," John bit the inside of his cheek, hard, until he tasted blood.

"For how long?"

"I don't know," he answered, his face hardening almost impossibly. He couldn't bear to tell her that it was probably for good. Dr. Halsey didn't need to be on the _Hercules_ anymore, and now that she had this idea of gathering all the Spartans on Reach, she probably would refuse to be anywhere else for a while. Whatever she was planning, John thought, it better be damn good.

John finished emptying his locker, and zipped up the knapsack, and hoisted it onto his back. Renee bit her lip, and Amy got to her feet, realizing that he was probably going to leave the room. She snatched up the condom from the bed, and held it out to him, trying to lighten the mood.

"Here, don't forget this!" she beamed, but John shot her down with a glare that made her reconsider the idea.

"Considering where I'm going, Corporal, I don't think I'll need it." He said icily, not in the mood for Amy's jokes. Amy bringing up the condom only reminded him of what he would be deprived of. Not just what Renee and him longed to do, but being deprived of each other.

Renee sighed, and felt like she wanted to cry. With John gone, there would be nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to, her life would return to the boring state it had been before she had met John.

John left the room, and Renee and Amy followed close behind. He was quite aware of them there, and was annoyed, only partially. Renee's presence, he was glad for, but Amy's…

Impulsively, John reached over and took Renee's hand in his own, hoping to hint at Amy that it'd be good to leave them alone. Amy was smart, and she quickly got the picture.

"Well, I'll wait back a little…" Amy sputtered, and she turned around and walked in the opposite direction, and paused several feet down the hallway, giving them their desired privacy.

Renee and John then stopped and turned to look at each other, and then after a moment, John quickly pulled her into a hug. Renee pressed her face into his scratchy uniform, and she squeezed his arms.

"When will I see you again?"

"I don't know," John answered truthfully, pulling her closer, "I honestly don't know."

Renee felt tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she bit her lip and persistently held them back. She couldn't cry. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and wondered if her watery eyes were really noticeable.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," John said, holding her face in his hands, "Do me a favor, please, keep good care of yourself. I don't want you to get a single scrape or bruise, that's an order."

Despite the situation, Renee smiled, and sniffed, holding back tears. She nodded numbly.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "I promise I'll try."

She laughed, but tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably, and she cursed them silently. She didn't want him to go. John was taken aback by seeing her crying, for no one had ever cried for him before. He didn't know much about consoling, so he leaned in and kissed her lips. The kiss was long and deep, and after a long beat he pulled back.

Renee reached down and took his hands in her own, and gave a big sigh.

"I wish this wasn't happening – and so soon."

"I know," John's expression hardened, "But they're my orders. When I'm gone, remember I'll be thinking about you every day, and that I love you." The words sounded strange, yet natural coming out of his mouth. He kissed her again, and this time, it took everything in her not to break down crying. She held herself together, however.

"I have to go get into my armor," John said after he had pulled back, "My Pelican leaves in about an hour, so come to the Docking bay, and I'll see you one last time before I leave. Bring Amy, too."

Renee nodded, glancing down the hallway at her friend waiting patiently, her arms folded.

"Okay," she sniffed again, and wiped the tears away. She felt like a whole weight was bearing down on her shoulders, that her happiness was leaving her.

_Cryo sleep,_ she thought. _I__'m going into it so that I won__'t have to spend all my time crying._

And with that, John turned and began walking down the hallway. He felt a great pain in his chest, and he knew it would be best if he didn't turn around. Seeing her pained face would only make it harder.

When John had rounded the corner, Renee stood there, unmoving. She didn't sob, she didn't have a lump in her throat, but her eyes were betraying her. Tears formed and cascaded down her cheeks silently, dampening her cheeks. She glanced back over her shoulder to Amy, who approached her. Seeing her friend's tears, she comfortingly placed her hand on her shoulder as Renee tried to wipe them away.


	21. Separation

**Chapter Twenty**

**[March 13th, 2535 ****– Halcyon Class _Hercules_ ****– Epsilon Eridani System, Fleetcom Sector One ****– En Route to Reach]**

John said nothing as the technicians helped him into his MJOLNIR armor. As it was assembled, piece by piece of green titanium alloy, encasing his body like a shell, he stood absolutely still and only moved when it was needed. He felt comfortable in his armor, but even that small amount of comfort wasn't able to ease his worry and upset. He didn't want to leave Renee, but he knew he had to; there was no choice in the matter. Orders were orders, and as a Spartan and member of the UNSC, orders had to be followed, no questions asked, no hesitations, no objections.

He exhaled deeply as one of the technicians lastly handed him his helmet. He took it, momentarily hesitating. Slowly, he raised it and put it on and the suit pressurized with a hiss. His face was masked with the mirrored visor, and instantly, John felt that he could rightly feel his emotions now. No one would see, no one would know whether there was a smile or a frown or a glare or a glance behind his visor. He was in his own private place now, behind his helmet; he was once again the faceless super soldier everyone knew him to be. No longer John who mingled with the two female corporals, he was Master Chief now, a Spartan, whose job was to kill. Instantly, he felt that other John disappear with his face.

With a blur, John snatched up his knapsack off a nearby table, hoisted it over his shoulder with little effort, and left the armory in three long strides. His armored boots thudded on the floor as he walked, down the hallway towards what felt like hell. With each step, he knew he was going further away from what life he had become strangely accustomed to in this short time aboard the _Hercules_, back to his old life, which had existed flawlessly before he had ever laid eyes on Renee.

Now he understood what a complex and utterly confusing emotion love could be. Of course he felt feelings of strong and unfathomable love towards the spunky female marine, but at the same time, he could easily carry feelings of annoyance, for she had – probably unbeknownst to her – vexed him and reeled him in as if he wasn't a Spartan trained professionally to exercise little or no emotion, but instead as if he were a common civilian, a young man fresh out of the constricting grasps of high school, eager to experience life and love, oblivious to the war and living carefree without its existence being little or no hindrance to his everyday schedule.

Love be damned, he had acted exactly like the second option whenever he was around Renee, although foolishly enough, a common civilian male would probably have more experience in the field of love – not to mention in the ways of natural everyday conversation. It was ridiculous, and unprofessional, but John was conflicted. When he was around Renee, he enjoyed who he was; he enjoyed the feelings, the swelling of pride in his chest when he held her hand in his own, and the electric shock that seemed to course through him when his lips touched hers. Honestly, he believed he enjoyed this more than being out on the battlefield pumping aliens full of lead. Yes, now that he thought about it, he would easily choose his carefree life with Renee and Amy over that, but only if it were possible – it wasn't so. Only in his dreams would it be, in his mind, never to see the light of reality. Reality was cold and bitter compared to the nostalgic few days of romance he longed to make into an everyday thing. Reality was guns, war, bloodshed, murder, entire human colonies being wiped out in record time – it was sad but true.

John knew nothing else, he never had. Memories of life on his home world had been minute, and only succeeded to become less and less with each passing day, becoming obscured – as if he was losing his vision. The memories became choppy, pieces were forgotten. It was comparable to have several different puzzles being upended on the floor, to have half the pieces taken away, and then John being told to try and make sense of it, try and form them into their original state. It wasn't possible. Ever since he could remember, reality had been hard training, a gun in his hand, obstacle courses, and classroom teachings with the AI Déjà. To think his life could be anything else but fighting was foolish, distant, unrealistic, and impossible. Having to leave this sheltered temporary life aboard the _Hercules _was exact proof of that.

If he had been able to resist and control his feelings, he would have never allowed himself to develop a relationship with Renee, a friendship with Amy. He should have never known what it was like to love. Now he knew why love was almost a forbidden subject amongst the Spartans. If they didn't know love, they couldn't miss it. John couldn't help but feel that he had broken a golden rule – and thus, created a hellish consequence, that its vibes affected all who he allowed to get involved. It had been paradise, for a short, bittersweet time. Now fate had come along and turned the tables and let loose reality, which swore to wreak havoc to those foolish enough to allow themselves to get lost in this fairytale of a life.

If only, he hadn't been so vulnerable...

John reached the docking bay, his mind almost smoking with his heavy brooding. The seriousness of his thoughts aided his composure, he mimicked his thoughts and allowed their miserable effects to take their toll on his expression – only minimally, of course. If he had set free the true nature of the expression, John feared that it might have been another repeat of his concrete throwing extravaganza – despite it wouldn't be concrete he'd be throwing. The nearest victims were several warthogs, which he – if he wanted to – could easily make use of in the recipe for disaster. He mentally decided, though, that there would be no more outbursts like that. Not here, not ever again.

By now, John was halfway across the docking bay, heading in the general direction of his awaiting Pelican. Dr. Halsey and Thomsen were there, standing by it, waiting for him. He reached them quickly and saluted, but said nothing.

Thomsen returned the salute, smiling unsurely at John's silence, but he extended his hand anyway. John took it in a firm grip and shook politely.

"It's been an honor having you with us, 117," Thomsen declared, "I'll miss both your and Catherine's company." He looked to Dr. Halsey, "It'll feel lonely on the bridge now with just Keira there, Doctor."

Dr. Halsey smiled, brushing a piece of grey-streaked hair from her eyes.

"I'm sure we'll meet again sometime, Captain," she said optimistically, and she glanced to John's mirrored visor, and wasn't completely satisfied by only finding her own reflection in it. She had grown accustomed to seeing him without his armor in the short time aboard the _Hercules_.

"For certain!" Thomsen answered, his optimism irking on John's nerves. He personally knew that the possibilities of him ever being on this cruiser again were slim, if the possibility even existed. John was somewhat surprised by his own negativity, but it was to be expected in this equally negative situation.

Dr. Halsey looked from John's visor to the Pelican waiting for them.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

"Yes, ma'am," John barked, almost without thinking. As ready as I'll ever be, he mentally added. Dr. Halsey nodded, but she frowned, but turned and headed towards the Pelican, finding that there weren't any more words that could be said. With the help of Thomsen, she got into the back compartment, and collapsed into the closest seat, buckling herself in. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the Doctor falling out of any Pelicans, John noted with dull amusement.

John took a few steps forward, but hesitated. He glanced back over his shoulder at the entrance to the docking bay. With his eyes still locked on the door, he stepped up into the Pelican apartment, but didn't sit. He turned around fully to face the docking bay entrance, in which Thomsen was now crossing the large room towards to make his exit.

There was a rush of air as the Pelican's thrusters came on, and they came up into the compartment and whipped around Dr. Halsey's hair. She tried her best to hold it in place but it flew everywhere, and she scowled. John felt the Pelican rise several inches from the floor, and felt a surge of urgency and panic. He had told Renee and Amy to …

At that exact moment, he saw Renee, followed by Amy, come running into the room.

They paused, and then they spotted the Pelican, and John, and started waving frantically. From here, John could tell that Renee had been crying. He raised a gloved hand, and waved back, slowly. Renee kept waving as the Pelican's back hatch began to close. Just before it closed completely, John swiped her a Spartan smile, despite his lump in his throat. The hatch closed with a dull thud, cutting off his view of Renee. The compartment was engulfed in darkness, but the red lights snapped on almost instantly.

John lowered his head, savoring the memory of Renee in his mind, waving to him. That was going to be the last time he would see her for a very long time. Hell, he didn't even know if he'd ever see her again. Softly, he felt Dr. Halsey touch his hand, and he turned to look at her, and she guided him down to sit beside her, although they didn't exchange even a word.

Guilt was written all over Halsey's face. She frowned, and couldn't bear to look at John, even though she couldn't see his expression, she knew what he would be feeling. She felt that once again, she was taking John away from something that meant a lot to him. First, it had been his family and his home, and now she was taking him away from the person he loved.

Renee watched the docking bay doors open and the Pelican zoom out into space. She watched it as it flew away, towards the bright surface of Reach. The doors closed, and she felt her vision blur with tears, and the realization really began to hit her. John was gone.

Amy looked to her, and saw that she was crying again, the tears falling freely down her cheeks as if each eye were a waterfall.

"Don't cry!" Amy encouraged immediately, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You'll see him again. I know you will."

Renee didn't even realize she had been crying until Amy told her. She reached up and wiped at the tears that were running down her cheeks, feeling angry at herself for allowing herself to cry. She sighed, but didn't have any energy to try and make them stop.

As her tears continued to fall, Renee made no sound. Amy tried her best at trying to consol her friend, although she knew that it wouldn't do much good. She'd miss John, too.

"This really sucks," Amy told her, "I know it does, I know how you feel, but think about it, you'll see John again! He'll come back, maybe not in a month or two, but eventually, he'll come back! We'll have another planet to defend in no time, and I bet you anything he'll be there fighting."

Amy saw Captain Thomsen leaving the room. He glanced at her, and looked sympathetic. Amy raised her arm to salute, but he was already gone. She sighed, and looked back to Renee.

"How about you come with me, and we go to the cafeteria, and talk, okay?" Amy asked, "Talking always makes me feel better when I'm sad."

Renee nodded numbly. She felt like she was floating as Amy guided her down the hallway away from the docking bay. As if she was dead to the world, as if she wasn't there. She felt blind, deaf and stupid without John. She didn't know what to do now, what was there to do? What fun was there now? There would be no one to hold her hand under the table, no one to kiss her, no one to take her in their arms and hold her close, no one to share a bed with.

As they were walking, Renee saw someone approaching them. She glanced up through the hair hanging in her eyes, and saw it was Troy. Oh he came at such convenient times. Renee frantically reached up to wipe the hair out of her eyes and the tears from her face, but her red eyes and nose gave everything away.

"What's wrong?" he demanded as he drew near enough to see Renee's face, sounding actually concerned. Amy didn't say anything, and Troy looked to Renee, "What happened, Renee? Why are you crying? Spartan didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Renee said, "Just leave me alone; you wouldn't care."

Troy pursed his lips for a moment, his anger flaring, but he exhaled deeply and calm seemed to splash across his features again. He'd exercise his patience. He looked to Amy for a better answer.

"She's not feeling well," she told him flatly, "Due to what just happened."

"What happened?" Troy asked, bewildered, "I know nothing; don't leave me in the dark here, you two!"

"John's gone!" Renee snapped, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Gone?" Troy repeated, "Gone where? I never knew you could lose track of someone that big."

"No, you idiot! He's not lost," Amy was quick to reply, "He's gone, as in he left."

"Oh," his features softened, "To…"

"Reach, with Dr. Halsey…" Renee finished, wiping at her eyes again. She didn't want Troy to see her crying over John.

"I knew the Doctor was leaving," Troy folded his arms on his chest, "but I wasn't informed about Spartan ditching us too. That's too bad."

Actually, he couldn't feel happier. Now, with John gone, he might be able to try and mend his friendship with Renee and Amy. Renee could forget about John now, he'd probably get himself killed in some strange Spartan mission and he'd be gone from their lives for good… and maybe things could go back to how they used to be…

Troy met Renee's eyes, and she glared at him, and he felt like she knew what he had just thought, and felt somewhat intimidated. Renee's glare was almost as bad as John's in the intensity, Troy was disgusted. She was trying to be like _him._

"Because John is gone, don't think you automatically can try and take his place," she declared as if she'd read his mind, her voice surprisingly soft compared to her glare, "You _won__'t_ replace him." She almost sounded weak, like she didn't have any energy to put expression into her voice as well as her features.  
"Trust me, I don't want to be John," he replied, almost insulted by Renee's words, "I'm not going to take his place; I'm taking my own back, RenRen."

The thought of Troy coming back and beginning to hang out with her and Amy didn't make Renee feel at all better, but she hadn't the energy to protest. She felt numb, and managed a shrug, and let her eyes fall to the floor.

"Well I suppose we need some man to hang out with," Amy announced with a sigh, "Though this is a one-time chance Troy. Be an asshole and you're getting the boot. Besides, I thought a Lieutenant would have better things to do than associate with his old friends."  
"I have just about as much to do as you two," Troy answered, falling in sync with the two girls as they started walking again. He went beside Renee, so that she was in-between both he and Amy. For a moment, he considered making distance between Renee, but his consoling side and longing to be close to her won him over, and he extended his arm and put it around his shoulders.

Normally, Renee would have shrugged it off, but she didn't even bother, nor did she really respond to Troy's gesture. Amy gave him a weird look.

"She has a man," she warned, trying to be the voice for her moping friend, who suddenly struck her as if she was just a walking ragdoll.

"Well I'm her friend," Troy raised an eyebrow, satisfying the little bit of anger Amy's words conjured by pulling Renee closer to him, "I know a tad bit more about her than Spartan does. I think the best thing we can do right now is to try and make her feel better, Smythe, not argue like a couple of kids. I've spent the last year of my life in one great huge argument with you two misfits, and I'm sick of it. Consider me neutral."

"Alright," Amy shrugged, rolling her eyes, "Although I think you're gesture isn't all about consoling."

Renee exhaled a little breath, knowing that Amy's speculation was right. Troy was trying to consol her, but at the same time she knew well enough it was also an excuse to get close to her, to be able to put his arm around her shoulders when John wasn't around to see it. The thought of John sent a new wave of sadness over her, and several more tears fell silently from her eyes. She kept her head down and moved one foot in front of the other like an automaton. John's absence and Troy's arm around her were crushing. She just wished she could go away and be alone. She didn't want to talk, especially now that Troy was here but at the same time she didn't want to be alone – she was alone enough – to be completely alone would be frightening. She was truly lost without John.

They made it to the cafeteria, and sat down at the usual table, Renee noticing how Troy gallantly took what had been John's place beside her, and how he never let his arm fall from her shoulders. He rubbed her arm, and looked down at her emotionless face.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

Renee was utterly dumbfounded, what a question to ask! Of course she wasn't! She decided it'd be best if she ignored him like it had never been asked. She glanced up and looked to Amy on the other side of the table, who was giving Troy a strange look, but met her eyes after a moment.

"Let's talk then," Amy declared, "You may not want to, but it'll make you feel better."

"I don't understand it," Renee said in a small voice, "Why did this have to happen?"

"Oh RenRen, show a backbone!" Troy sighed, feeling irritated, "He's not dead, he's just off on a special Spartan mission thing on Reach for a little while, and that's all. He'll be back eventually, you'll see him again. Besides, you've got us. Don't go dragging us down into this depressing state with ya; think of things that are happy, not sad."  
"I doubt he'll be back," she shook her head, "I can feel it."

"Don't say that!" Amy cried, "Stop this negative shit, dude. You _will_ see him again."

"You know, I think it'll just be easier for everyone if I just go into the freezer," she declared, "You guys can unfreeze me when he comes back or whenever we get in the next battle."

"No way," Amy snapped.

"Out of the question," Troy narrowed his eyes, "That's an order."

Renee bit her lip, feeling a little bit of anger welling up inside her, but then she thought of what John would want. He wouldn't want her being this way; he'd want her to be happy. She decided mentally then, she would be happy, but she wouldn't be doing it for Troy or for Amy, she'd be doing it for John.

It had been a silent ride to Reach. Not a word had been spoken between Dr. Halsey and her Spartan, and the silence had been deafening, and although Dr. Halsey wanted to say something to John, anything, really – she couldn't find her voice to do it. She was the one who was responsible for calling all the Spartans to Reach; she was the reason why John was on the Pelican in the first place.

John, she thought, if there hadn't been a war, and she hadn't selected him for the Spartan program, what sort of life would he have lived? A normal one, that's for sure. He would be without all the knowledge of fighting, without his years of training; he would have been just another common civilian. At his current twenty-four years of age, would he have been engaged by now? Married, even? Perhaps, even with children to his name? When he had a last name, that is. That was one thing Dr. Halsey had never known about John. Even when they had given her his file, his surname had already been obscured by his number, his Spartan tag. But, even if a normal life had been possible for John, surely enough he wouldn't have ever met Renee, who was from Earth, and he from Eridanus II. Dr. Halsey thought herself selfish, using her Spartans as if they were pawns on a chessboard. They _had_ lives, all of them, once. And now that John was experiencing a tiny slice of what a normal life could be – to fall in love – she was snatching him away.

The doctor looked to John, who was once again seated beside her. On the ride, he had gone from sitting, to pacing, to sitting again. He was so huge, so powerful, that if he truly wished upon not leaving, there was no one who could make him leave. He was leaving by his own choice, Halsey decided. If he wanted to, she had no doubt he could kill both her and the pilot, take control of the Pelican and fly back to the _Hercules_ - but that wasn't John. He was trained to be loyal, to fight, and to do his part in this war. Even if it meant leaving Renee and Amy behind, John would do as he was ordered, without a single resistance.

"We're almost to the base," the pilot told them, "It'll be about five minutes."

"Thank you," Dr. Halsey replied with a little nod of her head, and looked back to John, who at once got to his feet again, and began pacing the length of the passenger compartment. Down, and back, down and back, down and back, the only sound were his boots clunking on the floor.

This lasted until they had landed, and the pilot notified them instantly, and Dr. Halsey got to her feet, as the hatch swung open. Just as John was about to leave, she reached out and touched his arm, ever so slightly. He glanced back over his shoulder with a swift turn of his head and said nothing, but it was clear that he was paying attention, waiting patiently for whatever she wanted.

"Never mind," Dr. Halsey muttered, and withdrew her hand. Even an apology would do no good.

John gave a slight nod of his head, and then he jumped out of the Pelican, and turned to help her out as well. He offered her his hand, and she guiltily took it, and made the three foot leap from the compartment. Once she was safely on the ground, John took his hand away, and turned his attention towards several higher ranking officers who were making their way across the asphalt landing pad to meet them. It was windy, and the men all kept a hand on their hats to keep them from being carried away.

Instantly, John snapped to a salute, and greeted them with the appropriate "Sirs!"

Dr. Halsey, however, didn't salute. She never saluted, but instead, she gave the men a warm smile, and the first man who looked to be the highest in charge extended his hand, and she shook it.

He was an older man, with graying hair and a face full of wrinkles.

"Ma'am," he smiled.

"Admiral Stanforth," Dr. Halsey replied, returning the smile.

John looked at the man, the name seeming familiar, and sure enough, his face was slightly familiar too. He recalled that he had last seen him ten years ago, in 2525. Stanforth had been the one who had given John and the rest of the Spartans their very first briefing on the Covenant.

"117," Stanforth greeted him with the same smile.

"Admiral, sir!" John saluted again, "Good to see you again, sir!"

"Likewise, Master Chief," Stanforth raised his eyebrows, and looked to Dr. Halsey and then back to John, "Welcome back to Reach."

"Thank you, sir," John was quick to reply. He looked around momentarily at the familiar surroundings; he had spent the majority of his life here at this military base and training facility. It was a bittersweet reunion, and instantly his mind flashed back to Renee. Her face flashed in front of his eyes, and he had to close them for a moment, letting out an inaudible sigh. No, he couldn't think about her, not here, not now.

"The rest of the Spartans have been arriving here for the last hour or so," Stanforth was telling Dr. Halsey, "Although Spartan-030 and 093 won't arrive until tomorrow morning..."

"Vinh and Grace," Dr. Halsey muttered softly, "I see."

"They're on a mission farther out, it took us a while to even contact them," Stanforth went on, "But, now with 117's arrival, we've got all but those two with us."

They started heading into the base, and John quickly followed along behind. He felt his stomach flop. It would be good to see all of his Spartans again. It would sooth his aching mind.

"Not exactly according to plan," Dr. Halsey adjusted her glasses, "I wanted to conduct the first meeting this evening at approximately 1800 hours."

"My apologies, Doctor," Stanforth replied, and he stood aside to allow Dr. Halsey to enter the main military building ahead of him. John was the last one in, and he had to hurry slightly to keep up with them as they walked down the spotless hallways, their footsteps echoing on the floor.

"Well it can wait until morning; do you know when exactly Vinh and Grace are due to arrive?" Dr. Halsey was very prompt and businesslike now – different from how she had been on the ride here, John noted. He knew that she had probably felt responsible for separating him and Renee.

"No later than 900 hours," Stanforth answered.

"Alright, I'll reschedule it for 1000 hours, is the meeting room available then?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Make it available," Dr. Halsey looked at him over her glasses, her eyes piercing.

"I'll try my best, ma'am," Stanforth sighed, "Although I'll really have to push them – it's a meeting for all the Top Brass, and with all due respect, Doctor, they won't be pleased if their meeting is postponed because you want to talk with your Spartans. You know what the majority think about the program."

"Wind up soldiers, toy soldiers, robots, automations, mutants, yes, yes, I've heard it all before," Dr. Halsey shook her head, and gave a little wave of her hand, "They can recline in their big comfortable chairs, issue orders, and think they're doing a lot – when my Spartans are the ones balancing this war out. We're on the brink of failure, and surely without them we'd be all dead and good for nothing. I'll talk to them, if you want me to, Admiral, but the point is I have a tight schedule all planned out and I plan to have my Spartans assigned into groups and en route to their missions within the next forty-eight hours."

John, walking silently behind them, couldn't help but feel like he was eavesdropping, but Dr. Halsey looked back over her shoulder at him and gave him a little smile. She turned back around to Stanforth, and continued,

"Now where are my Spartans? I'd like to see them, and I'm sure John would too."

"They've all been given their own mess, it's all sorted out," Stanforth explained, "I'll show you; it's just down this hallway. They're all together, I think that's what they want, since they're so close."

They came to two sets of doors, and they opened into a large room filled with beds, and John, who could see over both Stanforth and Dr. Halsey's heads quite easily, was filled with happiness when he saw on each one, were his Spartans. The majority of them had their helmets off and were reclining or sitting on the beds, but upon Dr. Halsey, Stanforth and John's entry, they all stopped. Frederic – who John recognized immediately, stood up.

"Officer on deck!" He bellowed, and the Spartans all saluted in perfect sync.

John returned the salute, and spotted Kelly, James and Linda amongst them.

"Stand easy, Spartans," Stanforth replied coolly, "I'm just here to show Ms. Catherine Halsey and Spartan-117 the room."

Frederic shot forward instantly, and took Dr. Halsey's hand in his own.

"Good to see you again, ma'am!" he greeted her with a friendly smile, for he wasn't wearing his helmet. John, out of the corner of his eye, saw Stanforth make a stealthy exit, and almost instantly all the Spartans were up and crowded around him and Dr. Halsey, greeting them anxiously.

Kelly – after saying her hellos to Dr. Halsey, pushed through everyone and ran to him, and gave him a hug.

"I knew I'd see you soon, sir!" she smiled, "Although, I wasn't expecting _this_ soon."

"It was a surprise for you, too?" John asked.

"Yeah, a surprise for all of us," Kelly answered, raising her eyebrow and running her fingers through her short hair, "Whatever Halsey's planning, I don't know – but if it's an excuse for all of us to reunite it's a good thing, right?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Come over with us," Kelly grabbed his hand, "As soon as I heard this was for all the Spartans, Linda, James, Will and I made sure to save you a bed."

She led him over to a vacant cot, which was cleanly made and undisturbed, and gestured towards it.

"This one's yours, John," she said with a smile, "You can relax. There are no perimeters we need to guard this time. Linda and I will be your neighbors, hope you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all," John shook his head, and he took his knapsack off his back and tossed it lightly on the bed. He hesitated for a moment about removing his helmet, knowing that once he did his expressions would be visible, but he took it off anyway, and set it on the bed.

Kelly watched his face, her eyes narrowing.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice growing softer.

John met her eyes.

"I'm fine."

Kelly looked like she was keen on saying more, but suddenly, Linda and Will came over. Will quickly dashed to put John in a headlock, but he easily dodged it.

"Long time no see," Will said, coming around to his front, and his expression altered, "God, John, haven't you grown into Mr. Serious."

John raised his eyebrow, but said nothing, and glanced to Linda, who was silently waiting her turn. When he met her green eyes, she smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," John replied. He knew he should at least return the smile, but he didn't feel like it. He couldn't smile, not yet anyway. Again, a mental image of Renee flashed into his eyes, and he had to once again close them. He sat down on his bed, and suddenly felt Will and Linda sit down on either side of him.

"What's wrong?" Linda asked, bending down to try and see his face.

"Yeah, are you feeling alright?" Will raised an eyebrow, "You're not hiding some life threatening gouge in your side or something, are you?"

Kelly sat down on her bed across from him, and John glanced up and met her eyes. He could tell just by her expression she knew what was wrong. He tore his eyes away again and looked down at his feet.

"Nah, I'm just a little tired, that's all," John narrowed his eyes, daring them to not believe him. But they did, and he felt Will clap him on the shoulder.

"Don't blame you," he said, "I think we all are."

Will and Linda got up and went to their bunks. Kelly remained seated across from him and didn't say anything, and John kept his eyes locked on the tile flooring. All he could think of was Renee.


	22. A Foolish Mistake

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**[March 14****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Eridani System, Fleetcom Sector One ****–**** Reach]**

Long after all the other Spartans had got out of their armor and retired to their beds, John laid awake, his eyes wide open. He was looking at the ceiling, but wasn't really _seeing_. His body was tired, but his mind was not, thus, he found it very difficult to sleep. He had started thinking about Renee, and hadn't stopped since. Mostly, he allowed his brain to file through the memories of the times he had spent with her – right from day one to the last moment he saw her tear-streaked face as the Pelican's back hatch closed. He let each one of them replay, like he was an old man watching tapes of his past – one by one, feeling the emotions that had been associated with them. The adrenaline he had felt when he had first kissed her, the fear when he had seen her fall from the Pelican, the arousal when he had utilized Amy's suggestion – he lingered more on those memories – the last day he had spent with Renee.

John held back a smirk that instantly wanted to come to his lips. Just that short time with her meant so much, had propelled them so far in a relationship – made him truly realize how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. Thinking back on these memories made him amused, but at the same time, he felt horrible.

There was no Renee with him now. He couldn't wrap his arms protectively around her small delicate body, he couldn't whisper how much he loved her in her ear, and he couldn't lean down and kiss her forehead. She was far away – probably the _Hercules _was long gone, having entered back into Slipspace and now was hundreds of light-years away.

Ever since he had first met Renee, she was brave, strong-willed and surprisingly _tough_. She was a good shot, knew everything there was to know and had – as Amy often mentioned – the make of a leader. He had to assure himself somehow – she had taken care of herself long before he had met her, long before he was there to protect her and watch over her. She could handle herself now – even though it might be hard – she would be able to take care of herself in battle without him being there. Although, the girl seemed to be a little on the clumsy side, falling or tripping seemed to be her worst fault – and if her clumsiness happened to pay her a visit when she was in battle… if she were to lose her balance – it would be an opportunity for the enemy, if she were to fall – an even greater one. _She_ was lucky, though. John just hoped that one day her luck wouldn't run out.

"You're still awake?" a voice came through the darkness, and John turned his head slightly to the side, and saw Kelly's eyes were open and she was looking at him. John nodded slowly.

"You're thinking about _her_, aren't you, John?" Kelly's expression altered, although John wasn't quite sure what emotion it portrayed at the moment.

John turned his head and focused his eyes on the ceiling.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, his voice monotone.

"Who are you trying to kid?" Kelly was quick to snap, "It happened, what I said would happen. Although it happened a lot sooner than I figured, you got called away from the cruiser and had to leave your Private girl behind."  
"She's a Corporal now, actually."  
"Well good for her," Kelly answered, although she didn't sound particularly like she cared, "Don't you see what it's doing to you? Already you're acting weird and we've been here for not even a day. If you let this little affair go too far, you'll be thinking about her instead of thinking about aiming your gun, or dodging plasma. If you don't let her go, you will get yourself killed. Dr. Halsey has probably already informed you of that."

"Not in those exact words, no," John spoke solemnly, narrowed his eyes, "I'm a trained Spartan, Kelly. I'm not about to go get myself killed. I'm not going to let anything get in the way of what needs to be done."

"Well I sure hope so," Kelly rolled away from him, "Because I'd never forgive you if you did. I lost Sam. I'm not going to lose you, too - especially over something stupid like _this_." She paused for a moment, then continued, her voice getting bitter, "It'd look some charming on your gravestone. '_Here lies Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, a brave soldier and an excellent leader. He was killed in battle when he let down his guard to think about his love life.__'_"

John gritted his teeth slightly, but forced his eyes closed, and exhaled a breath. As rude Kelly's last words had been, he knew they were true. He just had to set aside Renee, lock all memories of her away in a dark corner of his mind – for now anyway. Strange enough, it was like Kelly had read his mind.

"It'd be best if you just forget about her for the time being, John," she announced with a sigh.

"I know."

He heard Kelly sigh again, but the two Spartans didn't talk anymore after that.

The next thing John knew it was morning. For a bittersweet moment, he thought he was still on the _Hercules_, but reaching across his small bed to find no one was there with him confirmed that he wasn't. As his eyes opened, he let out a little groan as his memory flooded back to him. Renee wasn't here, she –

No.

He couldn't think about her, not now. John instead looked to both of the neighboring beds and saw that Kelly and Linda were still asleep. He heard people walking out in the hallways, and his Spartans as they stirred in their beds. So, he _had_ fallen asleep at some point, despite that he felt like he hadn't slept a wink.

Whatever he'd be up to today would require energy and unparalleled attention. John remembered Dr. Halsey arguing with Stanforth for the possession of the large auditorium – the place where she usually liked to conduct her meetings. She was planning to send them on some missions, he remembered her saying yesterday. John knew that he'd probably be paired or grouped with several of his Spartans for a Spartan-only mission – where there would be no marines to accompany them – no Nat –

No.

John squeezed his hands into fists, and sighed. He hated that he had to do this, but he knew it would be for the best. Kelly was right. Allowing himself those thoughts would only result in bad consequences. He decided to move his thoughts away from that entire subject all together, and he sat up, wondering what time it was. It was relieving that after a lengthy time in Slipspace, now he was on a planet and the time would be readily available to him. He glanced up onto a rather old fashioned clock mounted on the wall, and saw it was 645 hours.

Not too bad, compared to the past few days. The rest of his Spartans should be awake by now, he thought. Well perhaps, all of them shared a common factor in this situation – they all were tired.

John stood, and turned to fix his bed – it wasn't really rumpled anyway – but he made sure that it was all smoothed out and the pillow was puffed up a couple of times. He then looked around the room at all the rest of the beds, occupied by his team. He smiled a little, but it was interrupted when he was caught by a yawn, and stifled it halfway through. John then cracked his knuckles with a satisfying series of snaps that echoed through the room, flexed his fingers, and then dropped lightly onto the corner of his bed. Kelly was lying on her stomach, her head still turned away from his direction. She was sprawled out almost comically, and John had to smirk at this.

He realized, as much as he would hate it if he were them, it would probably be the right time to wake the rest of his Spartans. They all had to shower, get into their uniforms, and await Vinh and Grace's arrival, and then the announcement for Dr. Halsey's meeting.

John reached over and shook Kelly's shoulder. Instantly, she snapped awake, let out a gasp and grabbed John's arm in a lightning fast movement, with quite a strong grip. She paused, and then peered out at him through her bangs.

"Oh," She answered, releasing his arm, "Don't do that again."

"Sorry," John replied, "Help me get everyone up."

Kelly nodded, and got to her feet in surprising speed, being able to push off her tiredness rather quickly. She and John then went about waking the rest of the Spartans. Most of them didn't complain, but a couple – James in particular – were somewhat lazy when it came to waking up.

There was the casual five to ten minutes of chatter between the Spartans, and several who hadn't got to personally greet John came over to his bed to do so. Overall, they seemed content to be joined back together again – it was almost a family-like relationship they shared – although John couldn't remember much of his family, he knew that his relationship with them had been similar to the relationship he had with the rest of his Spartans.

John went back to talking sparingly; he figured that if he had to forget about Renee, it'd be best if he abandoned the ways he acted around her as well. After all, he didn't have that much to talk about to his Spartans. Besides Kelly and James, the others didn't know about Renee, nor would John want them to know.

He went and took a hot shower, which woke him up fully – and for a few precious moments, John allowed himself to think about the two friends he had left behind on the _Hercules_. Since he was on Reach now, there would be no limited water sources – and John was glad for it. He took a good ten minute shower, and enjoyed every second of it. The hot water and his thoughts somewhat relaxed him, although at the same time he longed to see Renee. He missed her terribly, there was no denying it – but he simply had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't be with her all the time. It was impossible, not in these circumstances.

John looked up at the showerhead, and allowed the water to run on his face. It slightly burned, but he tolerated it. Then, he forced himself to turn the shower off, and stood there for a moment, to allow the water to drip off him. Then, he walked out, grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist, once again composing his facial expressions and wiping any existence of Renee from his conscious mind.

* * *

On the _Hercules_, Renee sat at one of the tables in the empty cafeteria, holding her head in her hands, her reddened eyes focused on the tabletop. She said nothing, did nothing, and moved only to sniff and wipe at her also red nose. She had no idea what time it was – only that it was very early in what you could call "morning", but because they had re-entered Slipspace it was almost impossible to tell. Renee had gone back to her room for a while, to get some space from Amy and Troy, but found it very hard to sleep. She cried most of the time – slept, then woke up again and went back to crying, but decided she would go to the cafeteria instead.

And here she was.

Renee held back a sniffle, but her body convulsed with a suppressed sob and she felt her stomach flop sickeningly. If she cried anymore, she was certain she would throw up. She hadn't eaten anything for well over twelve hours, and her stomach was grumbling persistently, only to be ignored. Sure, her body was telling her it needed food, but she just didn't feel like eating.

She wiped at her eyes, and sniffed again, wiping at her nose at the same time. She wasn't proud that she had devoted the past several hours to crying like a little kid, but she had often been told that there was sometimes nothing better than to have a good cry – and that it would make you feel ultimately better in the end, even if the situation itself didn't improve the slightest.

"_I wonder where John is now_," Renee thought, "_Is he still on Reach? Or could they already have sent him on some Spartan mission? Damn the Spartans__…__ sometimes it would just be better if he wasn__'__t one, if he was just a normal marine__…"_

But then, would she have met him? Possibly, but was it as likely? Probably not.

Renee doubted that the situation would get any better. Amy had told her to be positive; that she would see John again… she might, but how soon? It could be weeks, months, and_ years_ even. Would John even remember her? Or would he become that hard, emotionless, non-talkative man he was before they had become acquainted? If that were so, would she be able to soften him again? Hah, it was ridiculous; here she was worried about his attitude changing. What if something would happen to him? Based on the crazy antics she'd seen him perform – jumping out of a Pelican after her, wrestling with an Elite, only to have it kick him in the ribs and punch him in the head – she couldn't help but wonder if one of these times he'd hurt himself too much – where he wouldn't be able to shrug it off and ignore it.

Well, though, he just wasn't _any_ marine. He was a Spartan, and they were what they were because of what they could do – and they could withstand hell of a lot more than any common person. Renee didn't know too much about the Spartan program – hardly anyone did – but she knew enough that she knew she shouldn't be worrying much about John. He was experienced and knew the ropes. He didn't make it to a Master Chief Petty Officer by doing nothing.

Besides being upset about John being gone, Renee was also upset about Troy trying to make a comeback into her life. After they had broken up, Renee was able to get over him quite easily because she instantly lost almost all contact with him, but now that he was making a return, she wasn't sure she liked the idea. She didn't want to become attached to him again – not even as a friend. That's what he had told her at first when they broke up, that it would be best if they just stop talking altogether unless it was necessary, but on Lacerta, he expressed an interest in still being friends with her and Amy.

Of course, she didn't love Troy, but there were lots of memories she associated with him that automatically came back when he was around. It was just like if someone was showing her a picture of a specific object, obviously there would be some memories come to the surface that had to do with it.

It was her past, and Renee didn't want to look back there. It seemed so distant now, although she hadn't even been in the UNSC for three years. Amy was the only person who she wanted to still associate with from her life on Earth – for now anyway. When the war was over – if she lived to see the end – she would return to Earth, to her family and old friends and go back to a normal life. Not until then.

For a moment, Renee contemplated getting up and going into the cryo bay and going into stasis without telling anyone. When Amy and Troy woke up and found her in a cryo-tube, there wasn't anything they could do about it – well, actually with Troy's rank – which Renee momentarily forgot about – he could probably order the technicians to unfreeze her.

She realized then that this was going to be one ordeal she'd have to live through. There was nothing that could be done about it, it was just so. John had been ordered to Reach, and an order was an order. She would see him again when fate allowed it. And she could only hope that it would be soon, for she wasn't sure how much she could endure.

* * *

The Spartans welcomed the arrival of Vinh and Grace with much similarity to when Dr. Halsey and John arrived. Everyone crowded around them, eager to have the final members of their tight-knit "family" back with them. The last two Spartans had arrived shortly after 900 hours, just like Stanforth had predicted. They weren't exactly on time, which Dr. Halsey wasn't absolutely happy about, but she, like the rest of the Spartans, was glad to see Vinh and Grace. She came to the Spartans' mess momentarily to greet them, but could only stay for a few moments, before she whisked off. John guessed by her determined expression that she hadn't yet won the battle for the auditorium, and that was her number one priority. He often admired the Doctor's determination – even for just a civilian, her attitude equaled that of any enlisted soldier.

The Spartans – except for Vinh and Grace, who hurried off to get out of their armor – were all dressed in standard uniform, clean and ready for whenever they'd receive the call to attend Dr. Halsey's meeting.

"The Doctor didn't stay long," James remarked.

He, John, Kelly, Linda and Will were standing in a small group around John's bed.

"She's currently in a war with the Top Brass for the auditorium," John smirked, filled his fellow soldiers in, "She had originally planned for the meeting to be last evening, but due to Vinh and Grace's late arrival, she had to postpone it – to 1000 hours, which, inconveniently was the time the Top Brass had scheduled one of their meetings – and she won't give up until she gets what she wants."

The others all laughed quietly.

"That's Dr. Halsey for you," Kelly shrugged, folding her arms on her chest, getting nods of agreement from the others.

"It's after 9," Linda raised her eyebrow, "It's cutting it a little bit close, don't you think? I mean, the Doctor could always hold the meeting here…"

"But you know Halsey," Will answered, "She'll press them and press them until they get so annoyed they'll give in."

"Well, when you put it that way, you're probably right," Linda smirked, amusement dancing in her green eyes.

John noticed that every single one of his Spartans had the limited expressions. A smirk, raised eyebrow or their eyes conveyed the most emotion, and only occasionally did they laugh. He had to get back into habit of it… he hadn't fallen completely slack, but had gotten kind of prone to smiling fully, laughing loudly and more frequently, and using more civilian notions such as winking, biting his lip or chewing on the inside of his mouth – most of them were adopted no thanks to Amy and Renee.

So, when he currently felt the urge to smile, he buffered it down to a little smirk.

"So," Linda continued, looking to John, "Are you feeling better today?"

"I'm still a little tired," John answered, "But nothing I can't handle."

"Well I suppose it's hard for you to sleep, you were in Slipspace for a while, I heard," Will added, "Slipspace messes up your sleep, no matter who you are."

"I know," Kelly huffed, "I despise Slipspace, and there are always distractions when you're there too…" She shot a look at John, intending the reference of distractions to be directed at him. In a non-direct way, she was bringing up Renee. John said nothing, and allowed his face to portray nothing as well. Kelly continued, breaking eye contact with him, "It's best though when you don't let those distractions get in the way of what's really important, right?"

His Spartans agreed, although they had no idea about the underlying meaning of Kelly's words. John narrowed his eyes ever so slightly – Kelly was really making sure that he wouldn't forget what she told him last night – although he wasn't about to. In fact, he thought he was doing a pretty good job of keeping Renee from his mind, as much as it pained him.

At that moment, Vinh and Grace returned to the room, dressed in their uniforms, and the majority of the Spartans flocked to them again, now that they could see their faces – faces that were long missed.

Kelly and John stayed behind for just a split second, and she met his eyes, shrugging slightly.

"You've made yourself more than clear," John said lowly in monotone.

"Good," Kelly nodded, "I'm just concerned about you, John, like the rest of us are."

John nodded his head ever so slightly, and watched as Kelly walked off to greet Vinh and Grace once again. He frowned, and looked down at the floor, troubled by Kelly's words. Slightly – ever so slightly, they reminded her of something Troy Fisher would do – like how he talked to Renee about him – instead, it was Kelly talking to him about Renee. It was odd, but strangely not unfamiliar.

* * *

The Spartans walked single-file into the large auditorium and quickly took their seats. Dr. Halsey stood proudly in front of them at the podium – obviously having won the battle with the Top Brass for the room. How she did it, John wasn't sure, but as he sat down and looked at the Doctor, he once again admired her. She looked somewhat exhausted, like getting the room from the higher ranking clutches had been quite a feat, but none-the-less composed. She momentarily held out her little data pad and skimmed through something, but tucked it back in her pocket and looked interestedly out at her Spartans seated before her, smiling.

"Hello my Spartans," she said, her voice carrying out perfectly through the large room, "I'm sorry if I'm a little late, but I had to work hard to get this room. You all deserve nothing less than the best," she paused to push her glasses up on her nose, "Well, let's get down to business. Obviously, you know that you weren't all called here just because I wanted to see you all again. Of course, it's nice, but I've got some missions to assign you – ones that are too dangerous for common marine personnel. Here's the scenario. Apparently, the planets the Covenant have succeeded in glassing aren't completely useless. The Covenant haven't quite forgotten about them, in fact, their using them – digging to get the resources that weren't destroyed in their original sweep. Now, as the planets were originally colonies of Earth, we don't want them using the resources. If we can't use them, we're sure not going to let them. The UNSC is calling upon you to return to the planets, and wipe out the Covenant forces there, using nuclear warfare. I trust you're familiar in that field. Now, the planets the Covenant are most interested in are Capricornia, Lacerta and Jericho IV – planets that I know some of you helped to defend," Dr. Halsey particularly looked at John, then moved on, "I'm assigning each of you into groups and splitting you up amongst the three planets. Your objectives will all be the same – wipe out the Covenant forces. You will be assigned your teams and be off on your missions by tomorrow afternoon. During that time, I want all of you to get proper meals, rest, and most of all practice. When you're not eating or sleeping, I want you out in the training fields – I've already organized several drills you are to complete within the time remaining. Now I hope I've made myself clear. If any of you have questions, please, don't hesitate to ask."

John instantly put his hand in the air in a blur.

"John?"

"Ma'am," John cleared his throat, "Once these missions are complete, are we to return to where we originally were pulled from?"

He watched the Doctor's expression momentarily flash to sympathy before becoming composed again. Her brow wrinkled.

"It's hard to say at this point, John," Dr. Halsey answered, once again pushing her glasses up on her nose, "By then, there will probably be new missions for you to complete."

John nodded, and looked to the floor, and Dr. Halsey moved on to answer another question asked by James, but John didn't hear it. It was becoming more and more clear to him that it was very unlikely that he would be returning to the _Hercules_ in the near future – if at all. This made him feel the dread all over again. He could feel Kelly's eyes on him – probably ridiculing him for his question – but now it was beginning to make sense. It would be the best to forget Renee if it was possible that he would never see her again.

* * *

After the meeting had finished, John and the other Spartans got suited up and went to the training facility, the familiar place where they had trained when they were children. With its complex design, nets, ropes, pulleys, puddles of mud, and all sorts of things designed to harm, John realized that it would be the perfect place for him to get off his anger that had been welling up inside of him since he had arrived here on Reach.

Dr. Halsey had assigned multiple soldiers, dressed in primitive versions of assault armor, armed with weapons, to accompany the rest of the trying obstacles in the training facility. John hadn't been more eager in his life. He selected his weapons, an assault rifle and a good M6D sidearm, and along with the rest of his Spartans, dove into battle.

John bolted, climbed up a net in lightning fast speed, and leaped over the side onto a rocky hill – sliding down the steep incline. He stopped himself, dodged a tripwire cleverly set at the hill's base, and saw his first opponent approaching him. John was wild with eagerness – feeling particularly cocky as he charged the man in the assault armor. He would show Kelly, he would show everyone. This was the time where he could prove to them he could think about Renee and fight, and win.

The man raised his assault rifle but John reached him before he could aim, and grabbed his arm and twisted. The assault rifle went off, but the rounds flew into the ground, and the man's arm snapped, the bone making a loud satisfying crack. He screamed, but John's fist met his solar plexus, cracking the armor and knocking the wind out of him – at the same time breaking his ribs. The man staggered, letting out a gurgle, but John finished him with a blow to the back of the head with the butt of his assault rifle. John moved on, smiling behind his visor. That time, he had thought of the first time had kissed Renee – there had been no flaws in his fighting technique. He initialized the threat in less than thirty seconds.

John moved on, thinking back to the particular time when he had first held Renee's hand beneath the table. He focused on the second man who was running at him, and he wasn't as slow as the first one had been, for he raised his weapon and fired two bursts at John, who ducked in a blur, and came running. He fired at the man's legs – and the bullets easily breached the armor, bringing the man down. John rushed up to him and downed him by knocking him unconscious when he slammed his assault rifle into his head.

He continued on, leaping across a large puddle of mud, and allowed himself to laugh. Now he allowed himself to think back on the time he had spent with Renee the last day on the _Hercules_. How he had kissed her, how she responded to him, how their love for each other had been so pronounced…

John spotted another man standing about fifty meters away on the other side of a large field. Confident, John bolted forward onto the grass, but strangely, the man didn't fire at him. John raised his assault rifle to shoot at him, but that's when he heard Linda's shout.

"JOHN, THAT'S A…"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, when John heard the explosion, and felt the intense heat. He was thrown through the air with astounding force. Dirt, mud – and what he realized was his own blood – flew through the air. His vitals dropped, and his HUD began to ping a warning. John's head slammed forward into the front of his helmet, and he saw his own blood splatter against the inside of his visor – and his vision doubled. He could feel his body flying through the air limply – his suit had locked up – and pain… lots of pain. He could only watch as the ground rushed up to meet him unbelievably fast. He crashed into the ground, and John couldn't hold back a scream as he felt pain shoot through his body – and he lay there motionless, only hearing the sound of his own frantic breathing and the beeping of his HUD, he couldn't move. He heard shouts, of someone calling the drill off, and he heard panic in the voices as they approached. Through his blood splattered visor, he saw one of his Spartans running towards him – but before they reached him, he passed out.


	23. Injuries

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**[March 14****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Eridani System, Fleetcom Sector One – Reach]**

John awoke to a blinding bright light, and closed his eyes again, only to open them and find the light less intense. Was he dead? No. He closed and opened his eyes once more, and everything began to clear – the bright light formed from a big blob into a ceiling light and the pale ceiling tiles. He blinked, and his senses began to come back. He heard beeping – hauntingly the last sound he heard before he had blacked out – but he realized very quickly that he was no longer wearing his armor, no longer lying paralyzed in the field. The room he was in smelled like disinfectant and _blood. _He turned his head, and saw Dr. Halsey standing over him, and Kelly wasn't too far behind her.

"You're awake," Dr. Halsey said, smiling ever so slightly, although worry was the dominating emotion on her face.

John was suddenly becoming aware of a pounding pain in the center of his forehead, and the aching in his limbs. He squinted, and held back a cough. His mouth was dry – and he could still taste blood and some faint trace of a medicinal substance.

"What… where…" he muttered hoarsely, and he tried to sit up, but Dr. Halsey put a firm, bony hand on his bare shoulder to push him back down onto the bed. John reluctantly fell back onto the pillows; the movements making his vision blur and the pounding in his head worse. For a moment, he felt his stomach flip – like he was going to be sick – but it soon passed. He licked his dry lips and sighed, but focused on Dr. Halsey.

"You're in the medical bay, John," she told him softly, "Everything's fine. Just rest, now."

He exhaled a deep breath, and raised his head momentarily – and the room spun, but he persistently raised it a little higher off the pillow to look down at himself. There was an IV in his arm, his chest was bandaged, as were his feet, arms and legs, and he could feel bandages wrapped around his head and several applied to certain areas of his face. He raised his hand to his face – and confirmed his speculations. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, and instantly felt cold.

"What happened?" John demanded, his voice coming back a little stronger. He looked back up to Dr. Halsey, ignoring her efforts to stop him as he successfully pushed himself up on his elbows. He felt a pain shoot through his chest, but didn't even grimace.

He didn't remember enough to answer his own question – and felt a little stupid asking the Doctor. All he remembered from the incident was Linda screaming something at him, and then the explosion – and the pain, and seeing someone running towards him…

"You went into the mine field," Dr. Halsey explained, "One exploded – and you're lucky that it was only one. You have first degree burns on your arms and legs, three broken ribs, a cracked kneecap, sprained wrist, numerous scratches and bruises, and you dislocated your shoulder – but I put it back into place when you were still out. I've given you a fair dose of pain killers."

John frowned and glanced down to his shoulder. It was entirely purple and black, and it felt like it had a heart of its own, but he put it out of his conscious awareness. His expressions hardened, and realized then – he knew why he was lying here now with his injuries. He should have remembered – been more cautious, he had dealt with that mine field before. It didn't take him long to figure out why he was the way he was now, with multiple injuries due to a pathetic and stupid mistake – he knew who had been on his mind at the time. He had been thinking about Renee, and was so preoccupied with his thoughts and getting to the next threat, he forgot to stop and think about the field. He hadn't proved anyone wrong but himself.

So, it was true.

For the first time, John looked to Kelly, who was standing silently behind Dr. Halsey. She was still wearing her armor, minus the helmet, which she had slung under her arm. She looked generally concerned, but there was an underlying look of irritation as well. She no doubt figured out the reason as to why this had all happened as well. John half expected her to give him a well-deserved tongue lashing, but Kelly said nothing – her blue eyes told John all he needed to know. He knew well enough that she knew what he had been trying to do, and that she was probably angry at him for even thinking about it – let alone trying to pull it off. He felt guilty – and incredibly stupid. He wanted to apologize, but he figured he'd wait until Kelly had calmed down a little. Not just she, but all his Spartans deserved an apology. He was their leader, and he had pulled a stupid, stupid, stupid stunt today. Well, if this had any positive side, John figured that he was glad this happened during a test run, not out in the actual battlefield.

"Well, I'm going to be fine," John declared, sitting up and quickly wiping any traces of pain from his face, "I really am, ma'am."

Dr. Halsey went to protest, but John had already pulled the IV from his hand and gotten to his feet. John glanced down at the blood as it began to ooze from where the IV needle had been, and he momentarily raised his hand to his mouth to suck away the blood, and then he wiped his hand on his shorts. He ignored the burning in all of his limbs, the aching in his chest and shoulder, the pounding of his head.

Dr. Halsey, who was tiny compared to the two Spartans, especially John, frowned. She walked over in front of John, and looked up into his dark narrowed eyes, eyes that currently portrayed nothing, no pain, no anger, no frustration, absolutely nothing.

"Please, John," she said, although she knew her words would have no effect on him, "Your body needs time to recuperate – you're not well enough and you know it. We need you as well as possible for tomorrow. It would be best if you..."

"I'm fine, ma'am," John quickly cut her off, "If I wasn't, I would be still lying down."

"But…" Dr. Halsey started, but she stopped herself and got out of his way. The Spartans were all the same – but she guessed that they knew their limits better than she did. After all, their limits were meant to be greater than any normal human's.

"I need my armor," he said, grabbing the uniform that was set aside on a nearby chair for him,

"You're not going to go back out there!" Kelly spoke for the first time, "You're crazy if you are, John!"

"You can get up from bed, but I'm afraid you can't go back out to the training fields yet," Dr. Halsey told him quickly, "Your armor sustained some damage as well. Technicians are currently hurrying to repair it for tomorrow."

John sighed, and realized now, given the circumstances, he wouldn't have anywhere to go except back to the Spartans' mess – or stay here. His body was aching and pleading for him to lie back down – but he wasn't about to listen.

"I see," John said, nodding ever so slightly.

"Well, I have to go back, the others will be expecting me," Kelly announced, glancing from Dr. Halsey, over to John, where her eyes lingered for a few seconds, "I'll see you later, John."

John nodded, and watched as she put her helmet on, turned on her heel and left the room in several long strides. He sighed, and glanced to Dr. Halsey, feeling slightly more comfortable now. Dr. Halsey, in this type of situation, was more understanding than Kelly was.

"What do I do?" John asked, keeping his voice low.

"Rest," Dr. Halsey answered, "Like I told you."

He sighed again, but walked over back to the bed, and sat down, but made no more movements to lie down. Dr. Halsey stood for a few awkward seconds before lightly sitting down beside him, folding her hands on her lap. The two avoided looking at each other, instead they looked off somewhere in the room.

"It's so different now," John told her, his voice somewhat faint, "I have nothing to do – but fight, you know? It… it was so weird, the past several days, when I was with her – I felt like I wasn't a Spartan. It was a glimpse into a life, a normal life, one that I know I can never have. I should have known it wouldn't last for long."

"She made you happy, John," Dr. Halsey answered.

"I don't know what I was thinking today," John shook his head, "I went onto that field – my thoughts were of her – I hadn't even thought about the mines. I know I can't think about her, and Kelly, she thinks I should forget about her altogether, but I can't. I can't."

"I know it's hard," replied Dr. Halsey, wringing her hands only for a moment before placing them firmly on her knees again, "And I'm sorry that you had to be separated from her. Although I couldn't directly tell you in the meeting today – I'll tell you now. Chances are, you probably will see her again. Captain Thomsen expressed interest in – not necessarily my return, but yours. If you want to, when you aren't assigned on any specific mission, I can have you sent back to the _Hercules._ Thomsen told me that you helped the marines immensely, that their death toll would have been much higher if it weren't for you."

"I'd like that very much," John whispered, "but can you be certain that she'll be there? How will I know if she gets sent somewhere else? It sounds so foolish, ma'am, but I don't want to lose her."

"I have access to all UNSC personnel's files," Dr. Halsey replied, taking out her data pad from her lab coat pocket and turning it on with a flick of a finger, "I can pull up her file, to check for you, if you like," as she was talking, she did exactly that. John watched the little screen of her data pad as Renee's picture showed up, along with all her information. A smile uncontrollably came to his lips, and without thinking, he reached for the data pad – and paused and looked up to Dr. Halsey.

"May I?" he asked, his voice wavering a little.

Dr. Halsey nodded, and placed the data pad into John's large hand. He took it gently, and looked to the screen. Renee's picture was old, he noticed – for her hair was cropped shorter, almost as short as Kelly's. She was still beautiful though – and it was somewhat of a relief to see her face. He glanced over to her information. Her full name was Evelyn Renee Kilburn, a fact he hadn't known before. He also obtained her birth date and learned she was originally from Earth. It also stated that she was still stationed on the _Hercules_.

Dr. Halsey watched John's facial features as he looked at the little screen – he allowed them to be free, as he smiled fully – a smile that she only recalled seeing once, long ago on the playground at his school, when he was a mischievous six year old boy. John continued reading through Renee's file, and finally when he reached the end he scrolled back up to the top of the file to gaze at her photo for several long moments. Finally, he handed the data pad back to Dr. Halsey, the smile disappearing from his face – all traces of happiness wiped away as he put on his default expression.

"Thank you," John told her.

"You're welcome," Dr. Halsey answered, putting the data pad back in her pocket. She let out a little sigh, and got to her feet, "Well I must be going. Do yourself a favor, and rest, John. There's no shame in that."

With that, she whisked out of the room, leaving John alone. He glanced around the room, and contemplated her words for a while, until he admitted defeat, and lay back down onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. Almost instantly, he felt better, as if his body was forgiving him and being thankful for this rest, and in return, not causing him so much pain. For a moment, he felt frustrated and angry at himself – but seeing Renee's face on that little screen seemed to make everything not so horrible. The wounds, they would heal, and he guessed that if Renee found out what he had pulled off, she wouldn't be very happy. John sighed, and let his heavy eyelids close, and he was asleep before he could think twice.

* * *

The time aboard the _Hercules_ seemed to drag by agonizingly slow. Perhaps being in Slipspace had a factor to play or perhaps it was there was no ingredient to support the old saying "Time flies when you're having fun". Both had an obvious effect, but the second option mostly took center stage. Fun was one thing that was definitely absent from Renee's routine.

She had lazed around in the cafeteria for a long time, had been the first there to eat breakfast, and the last one there to finish. Troy and Amy located her but she remained silent while the two caught up and talked about the past – a definite topic Renee had no desire to revisit.

Amy had bonded with Troy rather quickly, and it made Renee suspect that Amy only hated him because she did – in order to be a good friend. Amy never had been one to hold grudges, and seemed to have forgiven Troy for his impudence, or just conveniently forgotten about it. Whichever one it was, Renee found it annoying, and couldn't help but feel ignored. She was still awfully upset about John, and it seemed that since she wasn't easily consoled, Amy decided to dump her efforts and pretty much ignore her until she decided to smarten up. Renee wished she could have Amy's attitude sometimes – she had been saddened by John's leave but was not emotionally disturbed about it. She accepted the reality and dealt with it.

Renee knew that probably she was getting to the point of being annoying, she missed John, but it seemed Amy and Troy – not that she really cared about the latter's opinion, found all her moping and crying getting a little bit on the irritating side.

Perhaps, she thought, she should try and make the best of the situation. John was gone, and it wasn't like mourning over his absence would bring him magically back. He was away on a mission and there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it.

Renee glanced to Troy, who still took John's spot at the table beside her. His nose was looking a little bit better, the swelling had gone down – it was close to being the normal size - but was permanently off-center. It was her fault, but she didn't particularly feel guilty about it. Troy could use a good battle scar, so to speak.

He was engaged in a conversation with Amy – they were currently on the historical topic of high school dances – most recognizably the incident where Amy had spilled soda all over him when she unsuccessfully tried to dance with a drink in her hand. The two of them were content, with looks of amusement dancing in their eyes – like the memories made them forget where they actually were and what was going on.

School dances, ugh. Renee had lots of memories of those, the majority of them she had attended with Troy – and during the senior year he'd pick her up and drive her there in his sports car, which had been a gift from his parents for his seventeenth birthday. He sold the same car only a year later for a fair amount of money in order to top up on his Academy tuitions.

At that moment, Troy happened to turn to look at her, and he smiled. Renee noticed – his nose was _really _off center.

"Do you remember that, RenRen?" he asked, giving her a wink, "That was the same dance that they played our favorite song… matter of fact."

"Sure, I remember," Renee nodded rather dully, putting on a fake smile, although Troy couldn't tell the difference. He glanced to Amy and then back to her.

"A smile, that's good to see," Troy pointed out, "I thought that was almost extinct from your expressions lately." When Renee didn't reply, he put his arm around her shoulder, "Look, Spartan'll be back. You don't need to be all depressed like this, it's making Amy and I feel bad."

_Yeah_, Renee thought, _you both really look like it._

"Come on, be happy," Troy continued, "Join in the conversation! Amy and I are coming up with lots of fun times, high school - they were the good days."

"Yeah, Renee," Amy smiled at her, "John wouldn't want you being like this now, would he?"

"No," Renee answered, ducking swiftly out of Troy's embrace, "I suppose he wouldn't."

Troy frowned at her action, but didn't say anything and let his arm retire to his side. Good, maybe that'd send him the message that she wasn't ready to even call herself his friend yet, let alone allow him to be so close to her. Renee knew that if John saw it, he wouldn't be a happy camper anyways – although she wasn't sure if John knew jealousy. He knew he hated Troy, so that would probably be enough to cause a conflict – which was something Renee didn't want.

But there wasn't going to be any conflict, she reminded herself, John's not here. He might not even be here again… but she realized she mustn't dwell on it. It's what it was, and she couldn't help it. So, even though it was painful, Renee put a smile on her face, and began to join in on the conversation.

* * *

When John woke up it was early in the morning, and was surprised that he had slept so long, but maybe the painkillers Dr. Halsey had given him had something to do with it. Whatever it was, he didn't particularly care. Today was the day where he would get assigned his group and the planet for his mission. The technicians better have fixed his armor – they had more than enough time. The sooner he was back out fighting Covenant the easier it would be to get his mind off things, not to mention it would be more of a thrill than having to lie around in a hospital bed and endure the pain – which hadn't fully come on him yet, but he could feel it was there, waiting to strike him the moment he decided to try and get up. He could feel the slight burning in his arms and legs, and the dull ache of his shoulder and chest. His knee and wrist hardly bothered him now, so he guessed that they were almost healed.

John decided he mind as well bite the bullet now instead of drawing it out. He threw back the blankets, and got out of the bed, only to discover that the painkillers had fully worn off – and he was shot with an incredible amount of pain as he stood up. He hobbled over to the chair next to the bed to grab his clothes. He hastily pulled on his pants, ignoring the burning sensation as the fabric brushed against the bandages and the burns beneath them. John attempted to put on his shirt, but as he tried, an unbelievable pain shot through his chest, bringing him to the floor. He managed to hold in a groan, but the sound of his body crashing to the floor made enough noise to get someone's attention.

Before he could try and recover, he heard the door hiss open and quick footsteps coming towards him. It was Dr. Halsey, and she was down on her knees beside him in a second, concern written all over her face.

"John, what's wrong?" she demanded, resting her hand on his shoulder, "Did you fall out of bed?"

"No," John grunted, "My chest; I need painkillers."

Dr. Halsey nodded, and reached up to the bedside table, opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of pills. Pulling the cap off in a second, she dumped three little white pills into her hand and held them out to John, who hastily took them and threw them in his mouth and swallowed.

Dr. Halsey watched him as he lay back against the floor, looking up to the ceiling, holding his chest, taking deep breaths. He'd hurt himself badly, she realized, probably the worst she'd seen. Not often would her Spartans, especially John, be brought literally to their knees because of their wounds.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" she asked him, "I can give you and your team another day."

John shook his head determinedly, closing his eyes.

"Give me a few minutes," he said quietly, "Once the pills kick in, I'll be fine. It's my fault why I'm the way I am, anyhow. I don't want to keep my team back. Speaking of my team, who do I have, Doctor?"

"Kelly, James, Linda and Will," Dr. Halsey answered him.

He nodded.

"Good."

There was a small pause, and then he continued again.

"What planet?"

"Capricornia," Dr. Halsey replied, "It has the largest Covenant infestation, or so I've been told. I've assigned the teams accordingly. I know if you are –" she trailed off, "I honestly don't think you're well enough, John. The more I think about it, the more I think I should send you on a mission to Jericho IV, where it's a lot calmer. I'll see to it that Frederic will take your place on Capricornia."

"No," John replied, opening his eyes and they flickered over to meet hers, "I'm up for the initial mission in which I've been assigned, ma'am."

"You don't give up, do you?" she asked, smiling a little.

"Never," he answered, smirking slightly. He took a deep breath and forced himself into a sitting position, and he looked at the bottle of pills in her hand thoughtfully, "But just to be safe, I'd like some of those, for out on the field."

"Not a problem," Dr. Halsey answered, looking at the bottle, "I'll prescribe some for you," she sighed, "Well at least you're asking for something to help your pain instead of just saying everything's fine like I normally hear from you and your fellow Spartans."

John smirked.

"I'll admit, this _hurts_," he told her, keeping his voice low, "And I can't let that get in my way."

"I suppose not," she replied, getting to her feet and holding her hand out to John, "But you could always take my suggestion and let Frederic take your place…"

John took her hand lightly, but didn't really need the help to stand. He rose to full height and painfully grimaced, but exhaled a deep breath and spouted out his overused phrase "I'm fine," to assure Dr. Halsey's worried look.

To help him, Dr. Halsey picked his shirt up the floor and aided him when he put it on. John couldn't help but feel like a child as she helped him ease his arms into the sleeves, but at the same time he was grateful.

"Were the technicians able to fix the armor?" he asked as he started to button up his shirt.

"Yes," Dr. Halsey answered, "They cleaned it up for you too, saved you a bit of work."

John nodded, and glanced down at Dr. Halsey.

"Are they asking about me?" John questioned, by 'they' he meant the other Spartans. Dr. Halsey had no problem figuring that out.

"Well, of course," she replied, "Kelly has done the job of assuring them that you're fine, although I still believe you're not…"

"I'm fine enough," John sighed, but he smirked, "Don't worry about me, I'm built tough."

"I know you are," Dr. Halsey answered, "Well, if you insist, you should probably go and pick up your armor, then meet me and everyone else in the auditorium in about a half an hour. I'll have your bottle of pain killers for you by then, too."

John nodded in agreement, taking one last look around the room before glancing down back to her.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said lowly.

"It's my job."

With that, John turned and left the room. He walked as quickly as he could down the hallway, but his feet were sore – and when there was no one there to see, he slowed his pace a little. On his way, he passed several officers, and greeted them with a proper salute – although he was careful to use his other arm, for his left shoulder was too sore to lift even the slightest.

He arrived and the technicians had his suit all ready for him. It was remarkably clean to the point where it shone – and John thanked them, and allowed them to briefly explain what had been wrong with it and their preaching to be more careful. Then he stripped off his clothes and with their help donned his armor. The technicians didn't mention anything about his wounds, and John was glad about that.

The gel layer of the armor John was extremely thankful for – and once he had the entire suit on, he increased the gel's thickness to almost the maximum, and he found it made it less painful for all of his limbs. It was almost like he had a bunch of pillows tied to each one of his extremities.

John thanked the technicians once again and then left. He tested out his ability to lightly jog in an empty hallway, and it seemed to go well without any extreme pain, which was good. His shoulder's movements were still highly restricted, however.

When he arrived at the auditorium, all of the Spartans were there, and Dr. Halsey was too, just as she told him. He went to her first, and she discretely handed him the bottle of painkillers, in which he slipped into one of the pockets on his utility belt.

John then quickly spotted out what would be his team and joined them.

"John?" Linda asked, as he sat down between her and James, "I didn't expect you to be feeling up for it. There were rumors that Frederic was going to have to take your place. How are you feeling?"

"Good to go," John answered curtly, but he decided to give Linda a Spartan smile to lighten the mood, a gesture in which she returned. Out of the corner of his eye, John spotted Kelly, who was sitting on the other side of Linda. Although he couldn't see her face, her head was turned in his direction ever so slightly.

As if she knew that he was on to her, she opened a private COM channel with him.

"I'm surprised, but you're determined as ever," she told him.

"I suppose so."

"Have you learned your lesson now?" her voice sounded irritated, "So typical, you had to blow up a mine to prove yourself wrong, when you should have just listened to me."  
"Acknowledged."

John left it at that and switched off the COM channel, ending his conversation with Kelly. He didn't understand why she was so upset. He was fine now, and he wasn't proud of what he'd done, either, so he wasn't in the mood to hear Kelly ridiculing him. He watched her as she swiftly turned her head away from him, as Dr. Halsey began to speak.

It was a short, rushed speech, where she repeated the teams and planets in which the teams were assigned, bade them all good luck, and then it was over. They would be departing in fifteen minutes sharp.

John exhaled, and decided to rely on James and opened a private COM channel.

"Have you been noticing Kelly's attitude?" John decided to put on his authoritative voice. There was a pause, and then James came back a few seconds later.

"It isn't really an attitude, sir. She's angry that you'd pull such a careless stunt. To be honest, we all are."

John really had nothing to say to that, and as the Spartans stood to leave, James came back with one final reply.

"All this over some girl, John? It's crazy."

Then he signed off.

John watched as James passed him, and joined up with Kelly, who was walking not too far ahead. Okay, great. Now they were all against him because he had fallen in love. Dr. Halsey had told him that it was an uncontrollable emotion, so why didn't his Spartans understand that? He couldn't help that he loved Renee.

Linda remained faithful, though, and decided to walk with him as they left the auditorium. She didn't bother with private COM channels; instead, she spoke aloud, but kept her voice really low.

"I heard Kelly talking to James," she told him, "About you loving a marine. No offense, sir, but that seems a little hard to believe. Is it true?"

John nodded ever so slightly, thankful for his mirrored visor.

"Oh." Linda replied after a moment, and then she was silent.

He couldn't understand their reactions one bit. Was love such a taboo? Oh, right. It was, Spartans weren't meant to love, and he had to be the unfortunate fool to fall into a trap and break the precious rules. But it wasn't bad, in fact, John believed it was the best emotion he'd encountered – and the fact that he was allowed to feel it was the bonus. No one knew when he was feeling the emotion of love, they couldn't tell.

Well, anyone else but his Spartans. No thanks to Kelly. If Linda knew, then she wasn't the only one. Was it so unprofessional to love? He was a Spartan, but he had feelings. They hadn't completely been ironed out of him. Loving Renee had been the best thing in his life, he'd discovered a whole new area in his life, one that he never knew he could find, or even that it could exist.

He would love Renee, and there was nothing anyone could do to change it.

But, he'd love her and think about her when it was appropriate. After yesterday's stunt, the last thing John wanted to do is think about Renee when he was out on the field. He didn't want any more wounds, any more bruises, any more burns – and he definitely didn't want to die.


	24. Mission NOVA

**Chapter Twenty Three**

**[March 20****th****, 2535 ****–**** Psai Caprcorni System - Capricornia]**

It had been fairly difficult getting into Capricornia's atmosphere, for just as Dr. Halsey had told them, this planet was now swarming with Covenant. The majority of the Covenant ships had entered the atmosphere and it had been a stealthy landing in a small area of remaining forest – although it was unhealthy and the majority of the plants and trees were yellowing and on the brink of death, and with good reason.

From space, it was hard to believe Capricornia had once been a flourishing colony of the UNSC. Now, its surface was blackened, all that remained that marked the had-been existence of humans were large areas of oddly shaped pieces of steel and metal – remnants of cities that had been melted and then hardened into awkward shapes. The vast oceans were now gone, having boiled away into tiny lakes dotted across the barren land. Where they had been were now large valleys, which sloped down hundreds of feet to what had been the ocean floor, which was littered with rotten corpses of fish and other marine life that had been literally boiled to death in their own habitats.

It was a tragic scene, and when John first saw it from the Pelican's cockpit, he found himself deeply saddened. Not two weeks ago, he had been on the same planet, although it had then inhabited life. He never had returned to a planet that suffered glassing before – never thought he would – but it wasn't anything pleasant. His fellow Spartans shared similar opinions.

Well it was for the best now, anyway, for on board the Pelican they carried a NOVA bomb – a new prototype – which took up nearly the entire passenger's compartment. The direct orders were to plant the nuclear weapon, detonate it, and leave as quickly as possible. This particular bomb had enough power to destroy the entire planet. It was a combination of several fusion warheads, and although particularly small, was the UNSC's most powerful weapon by far – it easily had a twenty-seven gigaton yield, John recalled.

Once this thing was detonated, it would destroy the Covenant on the planet, and the planet itself. The timer on the NOVA bomb was ten minutes, and John only hoped that he and the rest of the Spartans would be able to make it off the planet in time. If not, they would be vaporized in a split second.

Now he fully understood why this had to be a Spartan-only mission.

John shut the Pelican's engines down and climbed out of the cockpit and went into the passenger's compartment, where Kelly, Linda, James and Will were all standing around the bomb. They all looked to him for instructions.

"Let's get that bomb out of here," John ordered, "James, Will and Kelly, you'll carry it. Linda and I will lead and provide a safe path for you to follow. The Covenant are digging in the next valley, so I want to try and put the bomb right in the middle of them. We can't allow ourselves to be seen, especially you three with the bomb. If some clever Grunt decides to stick a grenade to any of you or the bomb, we'll all be…"

"Come on, John," Kelly interrupted, "We're not marines. We're Spartans. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not up for making _any _mistakes."

"Right," John replied, although he couldn't help but feel annoyed. He knew that there was an underlying message with the "we're not marines" and "I'm not up for making _any_ mistakes." He knew it was a message that either marines made mistakes, or it was a way of saying that allowing himself to fall in love with Renee was a mistake, and that Kelly _or _the rest of the Spartans allowed themselves to make such mistakes.

"Let's get this thing moving," James gestured down to the NOVA bomb, "After all those restless days it took to get us here, I need to get moving myself."

"Alright, one, two, three," Kelly said, and then she, Will and James picked up the bomb with relative ease, and they slowly began walking out of the compartment and onto the burned, dry ground. Linda followed behind them, but John stayed put for a second, feeling his limbs starting to ache. He quickly had the pills out of his utility belt, the cap off and two into his palm. He put the bottle back, and then swiftly turned around, took his helmet off, tossed the pills down his throat and put the helmet back on. He turned around, and saw that all of his Spartans were turned and saw what he had done.

"Pills?" Will questioned.

"What are they for?" Linda asked, although her voice was calmer than his had been.

John didn't answer; he just plucked his assault rifle off his back and gestured for them to get going. He jumped out of the Pelican, and was well aware that still, eight pairs of eyes were on him, his silence not a good enough answer.

"A prescription from Dr. Halsey?" Kelly gestured to Linda to take her place holding the bomb for a moment, and she stalked towards John, "A special prescription to hold back your romantic feelings or something?"

John felt his anger flare.

"No!" He snapped, and he reached down to his utility belt and tore out the bottle, and held it up to her faceplate, "What does _paracetamol _sound like to you? Pain killers, Kelly, so that I'm not handicapped on this mission. Now I told you to carry the bomb, and I'd like you to focus on the mission at hand, not on the pills that I'm required to take."

"Yes, sir," Kelly replied, her voice going a little higher than usual, and she turned on her heel and took back her place from Linda. He could tell she was angry, just by the way she walked. John exhaled deeply, and let his anger to pass. He could have very easily screamed at her just then, but he wasn't ever going to allow himself to show his anger like how he had on Lacerta, ever again.

_Focus on the mission at hand_, John thought to himself.

"Alright, let's move out, Spartans," John instructed, and he took the lead with Linda and they started off walking through the dying remnants of the forest, weapons at the ready. John kept a cautious eye on his motion tracker, for now, it only had five yellow blips. If any enemies came onto the tracker, he and Linda had to meet them before they could get too close to the bomb. Any stray shots could possibly set the bomb off.

He glanced back over his shoulder, and saw the others were able to carry the bomb easily, their walking pace nearly as fast as his and Linda's. Good.

They continued on in this way for a while, until they broke out of the dead forest and into a clearing sloping up to the side of the valley. On the other side, John knew that there was thousands of Covenant. He already could spot the large Assault Carrier docked above their digging area. He glanced up, and was surprised that there were no stationary guns placed on the ridge. Well, then again, they wouldn't be expecting any visitors, especially five Spartans delivering a special order NOVA bomb.

John crouched, and made a slow fist. They all stopped and crouched, and he opened a COM channel with all of the Spartans.

"Linda and I will quickly run across the clearing and survey the valley, just to see what we're dealing with. When I give the all clear, I want Kelly, James and Will to come across the clearing, and wait at the bottom of the hill," he said, "We'll go from there, understood?"

Four acknowledgement lights winked.

He looked to Linda, and gave her a little nod, and then they hurried across the clearing, and reached the base of the hill. Slowly, they crept up the side, and John felt his stomach flip, as he watched his motion tracker begin to fill with hundreds of red dots.

He and Linda slapped their weapons onto their backs, and began to slowly crawl up on their stomachs, ever so cautiously, and slowly the valley came into view, and it was worse than he had expected. There were thousands of Covenant troops, Elites, Grunts and Jackals, and they had set up a literal camp. They were all bustling around, and he heard the angry alien cries and orders as they forced the Grunts to dig. They had succeeded in digging a deep hole in the earth, about a hundred feet deep, and by the looks of things, they were still digging.

John and Linda backed down and laid against the hillside, looking at each other. She opened a COM channel with him.

"That's a lot of aliens," she muttered.

"No kidding," John replied, "I don't know how we'll be able to get down there… especially with a bomb."

"We could always wait until dark," Linda answered, "Then the most of them will be sleeping."

"We don't have time. Let's call the others over here." He widened the COM channel to all of the Spartans, and he whistled, _Oly Oly Oxen Free_. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw his Spartans started to cross the clearing.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to several blips that were approaching him and Linda. They both froze, and watched as they grew closer. They couldn't get up and run now. Quickly, John snapped, "Stop!" over the COM channel, and he watched as his Spartans froze with the bomb.

Linda and John pressed themselves flatter against the hillside, and began to hear the aliens talking as they drew nearer. Judging by their guttural, deep voices, they both realized that they were Elites.

Great.

John lay completely still against the hill, and heard the alien's footsteps crunching on the dry, cracked ground. Then they came to a stop, and Linda and John held their breath, and glanced up, to see two Covenant Elites above them, although they hadn't yet seen them. They both were Major Domos, donning the red armor.

Suddenly, John became aware that his other Spartans were completely visible out on the field. Just as if on cue, they heard a loud, guttural yowl come from the closest Elite, and watched as it pointed in the direction of the other Spartans.

Linda and John didn't think twice, and jumped up, and threw themselves around the two Elites. In a brief second, John saw that a third Elite had been making its way up the hill, and he saw its eyes dilate, and heard a loud scream of alarm as Linda and John dragged the Elites down the hill. John wrapped his arms around his surprised Elite's neck, and they rolled down the hill, kicking up a large amount of dust. The Elite roared as they tumbled, but they came to a stop, with John on top of the Elite. It could only writhe beneath him as he squeezed its long, thick throat. The alien made a strangled noise, and then John heard its neck bones snap, and then he let go. The Elite coughed up purple blood, and went into a spasm as John got to his feet. He took his assault rifle off his back, and smashed the butt of it into the Elite's skull, killing it.

He looked up and saw Linda was still fighting with hers. They were rolling around at the bottom of the hill, not twenty feet away. The Elite was equally as strong as Linda, and they both were punching at each other and trying to twist and break each other's limbs. Linda kept trying to strangle it, but it would push at her chest and face, trying to get it away from her.

Linda clicked her COM channel twice, an assistance call to him. He dove forward and jumped into the fight. He pulled Linda off the Elite, and jumped on it just as it was getting to its feet. They crashed into the ground. This Elite was stronger than the other one had been, and it clawed at his helmet, and kicked at him. John managed to punch it in the face, and it roared, and swung its fist back. He tried to wrap his hands around its neck, but suddenly, the Elite kicked him off, and he flew onto his back, and the creature crawled over him, and got its long fingers around _his _neck and began to squeeze.

John instantly felt his airway being closed, and he fought against it, but all of a sudden, he heard a loud gunshot, and the Elite's head exploded outwards, brains and blood splattering John and the ground near him. It let out a gurgle and slumped forward onto John, but he shoved its now-limp body off him, and scrambled to his feet. He looked and saw Linda held her trusty sniper rifle, the barrel smoking.

He was about to thank her, but when all of a sudden, a loud roar filled his ears. He glanced up to the hill, and realized that it wasn't just one roar. It was thousands of battle cries. Both he and Linda froze, and could only watch in absolute horror as Covenant welled up over the hill, and began to descend.

Frantically, he winked three red acknowledgement lights on his HUD. Fall back. He and Linda turned and ran, and saw his three other teammates hurrying to place the bomb behind a rather large rock. From behind them, they could hear a sound that sounded like thunder, as thousands of Covenant trampled down the hill after them, screaming war cries.

There was no way they could turn and face them, John realized. They would have to detonate the bomb, right now. He opened the COM channel and screamed into it, "START THE TIMER, AND FALL BACK TO THE PELICAN! DON'T WAIT!"

He watched from afar as his fellow Spartans ducked behind the rock and then Kelly's voice came back smoothly over the COM.

"Timer started. We've got ten minutes, John."

Then he saw as Will, James and Kelly dashed into the woods. He forced himself to run faster, despite the aching in his muscles. He and Linda ran so fast that they looked like they were flying. The ground was shaking behind them as the Covenant continued to charge, plasma bolts sizzling through the air as they shot at the two Spartans in anger.

John and Linda reached the woods, and tore through the bushes and trees, their hearts racing and adrenaline pumping frantically. Ahead of them, they saw Kelly, James and Will, running just as fast as they were.

John blinked away sweat that dripped into his eyes, and continued to run. His chest was starting to burn, but he couldn't stop now. If he did, he'd be dead. He pushed aside the aching in his body and willed himself to run even faster, gasping for air. There must be seven minutes left by now.

He glanced back and saw the Covenant were still coming. Elites, Grunts and Jackals screamed at them as they tore through the brush, swerving around trees, leaping over rocks, firing their weapons sporadically. At least they had no idea about the bomb, which they conveniently passed long before they entered the forest, tucked cleverly behind the large rock. It would be the death of them, and John realized, if he didn't get to the Pelican fast enough, the death of him as well.

Ahead through the trees, over the screaming roar, the thundering of feet and sizzling of plasma fire, he heard the Pelican's engines coming to life. The others must have already reached it. John and Linda pressed themselves to run even faster.

They broke into the clearing, and saw the Pelican was rising, its thrusters roaring on full blast. Linda and John ran below the Pelican, and jumped, and pulled themselves into the passenger's compartment. Linda collapsed onto the floor, panting, but John forced himself to head towards the cockpit, where Kelly was driving. He screamed.

"GO!"

Kelly nodded, and jammed the thruster forward, and John saw the billowing Covenant below them as they shot at the Pelican and screamed in anger as it rose out of their grasp. The back hatch closed, and the Pelican jerked forward, speeding up at a forty-five degree angle towards the sky.

The Spartans sprawled out on the floor of the compartment, not saying a word. John clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the blinding explosion. The Pelican began to shake as it went to exit the atmosphere, and the heat inside of the compartment started to rise, but John realized it was hotter than usual. The bomb…

The Pelican suddenly burst free of the atmosphere, propelled faster by a giant heat wave. All of the Spartans' suits flared as it tried to cool down the thermal temperature. From outside, they heard a deafening explosion, and knew that the bomb had detonated… and they were alive.

It took them a second as the Pelican slowed to a glide in the vacuum to realize that they were all alive. Kelly slumped in the cockpit's chair, and took off her helmet, and glanced back to her fellow Spartans. Her face was shining with sweat, her hair pasted to her forehead.

"We… made it…" she gasped.

The others took off their helmets, their faces were also sweaty. John's hair was completely soaked, and he could only sit and try and regain his energy. He felt so weak, but also, he never had felt so glad to be alive. They had been so close to dying. If there had been even a ten second difference, they would have been vaporized instantly.

For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and think of Renee. He'd survived this mission, because he hadn't focused on her. Honestly, she had only crossed his mind once, and that was when he had gotten into that little argument with Kelly. It had been easier than expected to not think of Renee in battle – it was almost like he had never known her, that she never had existed to him. He just thought of the battle, and the seriousness of it kept his mind from wandering anywhere else, and perhaps he was afraid to let it wander, after the events of running onto a mine field without thinking first.

Now what was next, he wondered? Another Spartan-only mission perhaps or maybe he'd get sent back to the _Hercules_, back to Renee… but that was only a slight possibility and he knew it. He longed to see her now, to take her in his arms and tell her all about the mission, tell her how close to death he had been…

He wondered what she was doing now – she was probably with Amy and Troy. He'd been away from her for eight days now, and he wondered if she would still be sad about him being gone – or maybe she was feeling a little bit better. All he knew was that she had been so upset when he told her that he had to leave, that she cried for him – something John had long forgotten how to do – and that she was overall devastated.

Maybe she'd improved, or perhaps she had closed herself up in a cryo tube and would unfreeze herself when he returned to her. She _had _mentioned it, but something told John that Troy and Amy wouldn't accept her doing such a thing.

Suddenly, Kelly's voice broke into his mind. Her voice was small, a whisper.

"Look."

She wasn't speaking just to him, she was speaking to everyone. John forced himself to get to his feet as the rest of his Spartans crowded around the cockpit, looking out the window. Capricornia hardly was what it had once been. The atmosphere had been burned away, and the planet had broken into several pieces – and it was surrounded by floating debris. No longer did it look like a planet. It looked like a large asteroid – rocky, barren, and dead.

"That's… unbelievable," Linda breathed, her green eyes dilated.

"To think that little bomb did _that_," Will remarked, shaking his head, "Crazy."

"Is that what they've ordered for Jericho IV and Lacerta?" John breathed, more to himself than anyone else.

"I don't think so," James answered, "Capricornia had the largest infestation. The other two were much less complicated – they won't use the NOVA, probably just a couple of nuclear warheads."

John nodded, and he understood why Dr. Halsey had been so hesitant about sending him on this mission, but it only succeeded in making him get a step closer to reality. Death had been right there, chasing after them, with blinding hot, vaporizing claws, ready to grab them and pull them into a incinerating doom, but they had survived, getting out with not so much as a scratch. It was a magnificent feat, to have successfully killed tens of thousands of Covenant troops, and gotten out alive themselves – John had no doubt that they would be indefinitely praised upon their return to Reach. Medals might even be rewarded, although it would be none John hadn't seen before.

He felt the shift in the Pelican as it turned in the direction of their frigate, the UNSC _Daylight_, which was waiting them not too far away. John looked to Kelly, who appeared to be in a better mood than she had been. All of the Spartans were, matter of fact, and John was thankful that they had made it through another mission together. Linda, who had a trickle of blood coming from her nose – probably from her fight with the Elite – wasn't bothering with it and her eyes were fluttering closed. Will and James appeared to be tired as well, for their heads were slumped down on their chests and hardly moved at all.

John felt like sleeping, but he'd wait until they were back on the frigate, where he'd go into cryo stasis, where he'd be oblivious to his pain and time would pass quickly. He'd soon be back on Reach, and succumb to the next set of orders – and he only hoped that it would be to return to the _Hercules_. A hope that he probably knew – wouldn't happen. He'd have to be patient and wait for the time where he'd see Renee again, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be too soon. He only hoped until then she'd keep good care of herself, and that she wouldn't be burdened too much by Troy, who was probably a permanent addition to her friends list now that he was gone. He wasn't worried too much about Renee and Troy, for she'd gave him a broken nose once, and if he did anything out of line, John had no doubt she'd break it again.

Assured, John couldn't hold back his urge to get a few minutes of sleep, and his eyes fluttered closed, and he was asleep in a second.

* * *

"Shipmaster! Shipmaster!" the yelling interrupted 'Malnoonee from his rest. He lifted his reptilian head from his arm and looked up, shooting a deadly glare at the Major domo, whose name was Isno 'Ukanamee, who had turned from his workstation to look at him. The computer screen he was by was flashing a big red warning, and the expression on his face portrayed the shock that accompanied his voice. The other Sangheili in the room turned and looked to him in question, and then to 'Malnoonee, who was wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"What is it?" the Shipmaster snapped irritably.

"Something terrible has happened," 'Ukanamee yelped, "I've just received news, the Human Colony of Capricornia, where we had deployed the large amount of troops to retrieve the planet's resources…"

"Yes, yes, what?" 'Malnoonee was impatient.

"Well… the planet… our troops… they're gone, sir," 'Ukanamee replied, lowering his head in sadness and glancing back to the screen.

'Malnoonee shot to his feet.

"What?" he demanded, crossing over to 'Ukanamee, who slightly cowered in his presence.

"Yes, they were all there, a moment ago," 'Ukanamee sputtered, "But now, the planet… it's in pieces… it literally exploded, our nearby cruiser, the _Dark Peril_, just reported it! I didn't believe it at first, but then they sent the video… look…" with a flick of a long finger, 'Ukanamee started to play the footage from the ship's cameras on the large screen in the middle of the bridge. 'Malnoonee could only watch as a bright light detonated from the other side of the planet, and next thing it was entirely engulfed, the atmosphere dissipated in a giant, sickly quiet explosion. When the fireball cleared, the planet was nothing but a cracked piece of rock. It literally had been split in two.

'Malnoonee's jaws hung open.

"What the…" he whispered, and he snapped his head in the direction of 'Ukanamee, slamming his fist down on the control panel, "What could do that?"

"This is the part you're _really_ not going to like, sir," 'Ukanamee swallowed nervously, keeping his head down, "Moments before the explosion, the _Dark Peril_ received several radio contacts from the ground troops – that there were Spartans, sir. Five of them… three of them carrying a bomb… and they detonated it and left. They tried to defuse it, but it wasn't possible," 'Ukanamee watched as 'Malnoonee's eyes narrowed and he clicked his mandibles angrily, and he cautiously added, "They believed the Demon, the one 'Kolsamee is after, was leading them."

'Malnoonee growled, deep down in his throat, and slammed his fist down on the control panel again. 'Ukanamee stepped backwards, cringing. It was dead silent on the bridge, the rest of the Sangheili working there not moving a muscle. 'Malnoonee leaned forward on the table, snaking his long neck out, glaring as the video on the screen replayed, another low guttural snarl coming from his mandibles, his eyes burning viciously.

"I want him _dead_," he whispered, "I would kill him, I would slice him to pieces... make him suffer in agony… tell 'Kolsamee. And order the Fleet to get ready to move. I want to find the next Human Colony; do you have any ideas where there might be one?"

"Well, in the Hydra system, we've recently detected there are several planets orbiting around a star, two of which are terrestrial. It's quite safe to predict that at least one be inhabited," 'Ukanamee answered, "Considering that's what happened for the last three solar systems we've come across – and they're becoming more and more dense, which makes me think we're drawing nearer and nearer to their original home world."

"Mhm…" 'Malnoonee nodded, "Set the Slipspace coordinates. That's where we're going, to the Hydra system. I will glass any planet containing those filthy humans. They make me sick, thinking they can try and rule, and deface perfectly good planets with their dirty footsteps. I won't stop until I've killed every last one. This time, when the Demon arrives, 'Kolsamee will be ready, and run him through, along with that pathetic girl he's with. I want them dead."  
'Ukanamee nodded in approval.

"With pleasure, sir," he replied.

"On second thought, call 'Kolsamee here. I want him to see this; I want him to feel the fury. They will not get away with this."

'Kolsamee was summoned in several minutes, and he walked onto the bridge, and respectfully dropped to one knee, sweeping his arm across his chest in an honorable bow at 'Malnoonee's hooved feet.

"Shipmaster, you wished to speak with me?" he asked.

"Yes, and show you something," 'Malnoonee said, and watched as the tall Sangheili, in his shining black armor, rose to full height, towering over him. 'Kolsamee's yellow eyes flickered to his patiently, waiting for him to continue.

'Malnoonee took a deep breath, and gestured to 'Ukanamee to play the footage again. 'Kolsamee watched in silence, and flinched at the end in disbelief at the planet's outcome. His head whipped around to 'Malnoonee.

"Was that where…" he began, but 'Malnoonee didn't need him to finish.

"Ten thousand of our troops," 'Malnoonee nodded, clenching his hands into fists, "Murdered. Can you make a guess as to what happened here?"

"A bomb, of some amazing technology," 'Kolsamee answered, "I've never seen that type of power before in my entire life."

"Who do you think planted this bomb?" 'Malnoonee raised a brow.

"The Spartans?" 'Kolsamee's features soured, his voice accompanied with a hiss.

"Yes, and your Demon was believed to have led them," 'Malnoonee snapped, but he let out a sigh and calmed down a little, "He needs to be exterminated. In fact, I've just ordered new Slipspace coordinates; we're heading to a questionable solar system which may inhabit Human life. If we find such a planet, we're launching an immediate attack, and without a doubt, the Demon will come to their aid – which will be your perfect chance to slaughter him – and his female, if she's there as well. The attack will be by everyone in this entire Fleet, _not_ just a couple of ships. I'm talking of hundreds, thousands of ground troops. The miserable Demon and all the others who come to defend the planet will meet a certain death, and in the Demon's case, death by your blade, 'Kolsamee."

'Kolsamee's eyes glanced to him, and then back up to the screen, and he gave a slight nod of his head in approval. He glanced down to his deactivated energy sword on his belt, and then back up to the Shipmaster's eyes.

"I know you won't fail me," 'Malnoonee answered, "You are a talented assassin, one of the best. I wouldn't have anyone else."

"Thank you, sir," 'Kolsamee replied, and he cleared his throat, "I promise you, I'll kill the Demon. I'll even bring you his head, if you wish. And the girl's."

At the mention of this, 'Kolsamee's mind brought him back to his confrontation with Renee's friend, Amy, where he had spared her life, and only gave her a warning, declaring that his name would eventually mean something awful to her. He knew that this time would be soon. K'tao 'Kolsamee, the name of the Sangheili _Ossoona _who murdered her two best friends.

'Kolsamee had lost many of his friends, and remembered what a terrible feeling of loss it was – it hit you like a burst of plasma. It was horrible. Would he be able to inflict that same feeling on the Human girl?

'Malnoonee chuckled, and placed a hand on 'Kolsamee's shoulder, as if he sensed his discomfort. He sensed it, but he didn't know what it was caused by. He especially didn't know that 'Kolsamee was suddenly having doubts if he would be able to carry out his assassination.


	25. Deviant Interventions

**Chapter Twenty Four**

**[April 2****nd****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **__**–**_** Slipspace]**

There was an unusual amount of chatter in the cafeteria. It was filled with the majority of the marines aboard, the ranks going from the highest to the lowest and everything in between. They were talking, laughing – and just at that moment they broke into song – a centuries old tune that had survived while most mainstream music through the ages had not – happy birthday.

In the midst of it all, one person sat in glory and pride as his comrades sang for him – Troy Fisher. It was his birthday, and the day before Amy made sure that no one forgot it was coming. The freshly-appointed Full Lieutenant was turning twenty-three. Though there was no cake, balloons, party hats or other things normally associated with a birthday celebration, the mood and the song was enough.

Troy grinned, and awaited for the song to be over, which ended with the classic "_And many more_!" He could only hope that would actually be true. In this war, you'd never know when your time could be up.

"Twenty-three, Troy, sweet Jesus, you're getting old!" Amy exclaimed, putting her arm around him, laughing, "Time to find you an old-folks home back on Earth, huh? You can retire as a veteran."

She and Renee sat on either side of him, along with Josh, Kirk and Blaine clustered around closely as possible. Renee laughed as she watched Troy's face sour at Amy's joke, and he turned and gave her a little glare, his brows knotting together – an expression that actually made him look old, like some old geezer who frowned at kids playing on his lawn, Renee noted this with silent amusement. If he kept that up the dents and wrinkles on his forehead would become permanent features before he turned thirty.

"Ha ha," Troy remarked to Amy, "Very funny."

"Everyone else seems to think so!" Amy raised an eyebrow, gesturing around as the crowd was recovering from a bout of laughter, the last few laughs, snickers and guffaws dying away as they were muted into cupped hands or uniform sleeves.

"So I'm surprised you actually remembered," Troy declared, folded his arms on his chest, "I figured it would be just me wishing myself a happy birthday – instead you organized a whole big group celebration, from there you proceed to call me old and make me a laughing stock." The last bit was of course added lightly. Due to the fact it was his birthday, it would be one day where Troy would have a fair amount of humor and tolerance for other people's jokes.

"You can credit Renee for remembering the exact date," Amy gestured to Renee, who rolled her eyes, "I knew it was in April, and I thought it was the fifth. Luckily she set me straight."  
Renee grinned sheepishly as Troy looked to her. Although it had been almost three weeks since John had departed, things had gotten easier and she forced herself to be as happy as possible with Amy and Troy. Troy's attitude had changed considerably, and he actually apologized for the things he said to her about John. If that hadn't been so, Renee would've let Amy make the mistake with the birth date. Even despite his apology, Renee knew that Troy had only apologized for the sake of their friendship, and his jealousy and detest towards the Spartan hadn't lifted.

"Why thank you, RenRen," Troy smiled, extending his arms out expectantly for a hug.

Renee hesitated for a moment, but she realized she was under the watch of lots of people, so hugging him would be the most appropriate thing to do. She leaned in and gave him a little hug, patting him lightly on the back.

"Happy birthday, LT," she said, forcing herself to smile as she caught Amy's eye. Amy smiled back and didn't let any other type of emotion besides happiness show through on her freckled features.

"Thanks," Troy grinned wryly, letting Renee go – almost reluctantly.

Renee sat back straight on her chair, and realized with mock horror that had been the first time in years she'd hugged him. It was weird, but nothing unfamiliar. It was almost comforting, now that she knew Troy had come close as possible to accepting that she didn't want to be any more than friends.

She realized that she felt actually happy, truthfully – and it made her feel good. She'd learned to cope with John's absence, but not a day passed where she didn't think of him. Thinking back generally on memories they'd shared kept her going. Instead of making her sad, they eventually started to do the opposite, which was a huge improvement.

In the last week she'd cut her hair, since it had grown quite a bit since the last time she'd cut it – almost to the point where it was an unacceptable length of a civilian. She'd cut her bangs to eyebrow level, and her hair went just past her ears, and since Amy had been present, the ends were choppy instead of straight. Amy always was tweaking the proper ways of doing things it seemed – and even tried to persuade her to bleach her hair, but Renee quickly denied, picturing John's horrified expression when he would return.

Troy seemed to like her hair, for he was the first to comment besides Amy. Renee couldn't help but wonder what John would say if he was there. He'd probably like it too.

Since John had left Renee hadn't heard any news about him at all. Not a speck of information, it was like he had disappeared. At first, she was worried, but Amy assured her that the missions he was doing weren't ones that would make it to the mainstream news. Between the two friends, John came up in a general every-day conversation, but Troy didn't seem to care for it much, it would usually just be Renee and Amy who would participate in it. Once, Troy had gotten up and left to go be with Josh, Kirk and Blaine, and came back several minutes later when he'd made sure that particular conversation topic had been abandoned.

Renee snapped back to the real world, and she saw Troy was asking for some sweets. He sent Kirk up for him to the food dispensers, but she watched as Kirk made the selection for a dark chocolate bar, only to have nothing come out. He pressed the selection again a couple of times, only to have the same thing happen. Scratching his sandy blond hair, he turned to face Troy, giving him a puzzled look and a shrug.

"Try the other one," Troy called over to him, "They have to have something good."

Everyone watched as Kirk tried the next option, and the next, only to find that the same thing occurred. Kirk cursed questioningly, and then he looked over to them, "it's out."

"We must be getting low," Amy shrugged.

"Yeah we are," Josh confirmed, "Several other things are out, too. My guess is that we'll have to go to the nearest colony to restock on our supplies."

Renee's heart began to pound, and she couldn't hold herself back from asking a burning question that instantly came to her mind.

"Where do you think we'll stop?" she asked Josh.

"Reach, probably," He answered casually, "That's where we usually restock – they're better prepared for our arrival than if we were to go to some other colony. The Captain of course makes the final decisions, but it's a safe guess to say we'll be headed for Reach."

Renee nodded, and instantly looked to Amy, trying to contain her excitement. John was on Reach, or at least that's where he had been sent. That meant there would be a good chance to see him… maybe he'd even come back on board! Amy raised her eyebrow at Renee, but didn't say anything, which she found odd. Maybe she just didn't want to bring it up at this time, since the current focus was on Troy's birthday.

Things dwindled after that, since they didn't really have the desired food to celebrate. Amy came up with a good idea, but it was also an idea that made Renee question her actions.

"Say Troy," the redhead announced, "If we stop on Reach, how about you, Renee and I make a quick trip to a restaurant or a bar, and tell 'em it's your birthday, and we can make a real celebration out of it!"

"Sounds great," Troy grinned, "Now I really hope we go to Reach."

"So do I," Renee added quietly, but she didn't particularly care about Troy's birthday plans. Amy should know that she would be spending her time trying to track down John instead of going to a bar for some celebration. But Renee didn't even know if John was going to be there, maybe he was still away on his Spartan-only mission.

She pushed those thoughts aside and only hoped that John would be there, and she'd get to see him again.

* * *

Thomsen paced the bridge, his arms folded behind his back. His hat was lying on a nearby control panel, and Keira was watching him as he went.

"We've received several reports from the marines and crew that we're running low on provisions," Keira announced in her smooth voice, "We're going to need to restock on supplies soon."

"Yes," Thomsen nodded, "What's our closest option?"

"Closest would be Reach," Keira pursed her lips, "We're only 1.2 light years away if we continue in our Slipspace travel. Of course, I'd have to slightly edit the coordinates, but we could be there before the end of the day, Blake. The next closest option would be –"

"Charter our course to Reach then, Keira," Thomsen didn't wait for the AI to spout the other options. They had been to Reach not several weeks ago to drop off Master Chief and Dr. Halsey, but it wouldn't hurt for them to return, "Send them a message ahead of time to let them know we're coming. I'm getting a full out resupply – food, water, ammunition, the whole package. I want to dock and be gone by the next day."

"Yes, sir," Keira answered, and replied a few seconds later, she replied, "Coordinates set and message sent."

"Thank you," Thomsen replied, and he then turned to the control panel and pressed the loud speaker button to inform everyone aboard of the course change.

* * *

"_This is your Captain speaking. We__'__re currently en route to Reach to resupply, we__'__ll be there before the day is out, and remain on Reach until the next day. That__'__s all.__"_

Renee made instant eye contact with Amy, a smile uncontrollably breaking out on her lips. Speak of the devil, they were really heading to Reach, and they'd be there soon! She felt the excitement welling up in her stomach, and her heart began to pound. All of a sudden Troy's birthday celebration didn't matter anymore; she was instantly focused on the possibility of seeing John again. Just the thought of being back in his arms once more made her ecstatic.

She watched Amy's features as they surprisingly didn't change, and instantly felt confused. Renee glanced to Troy, who was busy engaged in a conversation with Josh, and then back to Amy. She leaned closer to her friend over Troy's back.

"I'm so happy!" Renee exclaimed in a low whisper, "I'll get to see John!"

"Are you sure?" Amy asked flatly, "He just got dropped off on Reach, and that was weeks ago. Who knows if he's even there? He's probably off on some planet no one's ever heard of on some Spartan excursion."

Renee for a moment was struck silent by her friend's words. She blinked, surprised how bluntly Amy had shot down her hopes. What on earth was up with her?

"Jeez, thanks for your encouragement," she muttered, although pretending to not be hurt by her words, "Won't you even pretend with me?"

"I don't know about you," Amy said in the same blatantly rude tone, "But when I arrive on Reach, I'm going to the nearest bar and having a drink with Troy, Josh, Kirk and Blaine. _You_ can go look for John if you want, and when he's not there, don't come back to us all depressed and threatening to put yourself in a cryo tube because you didn't get to see him." With that, she turned her head and pretended to be interested in the conversation the others were engaged in.

Renee was utterly bewildered by her friend's behavior, and for a moment just stared at her in disbelief, before biting her lip and looking down at her lap, letting Amy's words sink in – and they stung – but they also made sense, they proved that Amy had been mad at her for sulking for the past few weeks. When she thought back on her own behavior, it was somewhat ridiculous. John hadn't died or contracted a life threatening disease, he was just gone on a mission – and she had acted like it was the first option instead of the latter. Maybe she was being a little selfish too. It was Troy's birthday, and here she was concerned about herself.

At that moment, Troy turned around to face her, and instantly he saw her saddened expression.

"Something wrong?" he asked, causing everyone else to look at her as well.

Renee glanced up, past Troy, to Amy's narrowed eyes.

"No, nothing," she answered, and forced herself to smile at Troy, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Now that we're going to Reach for sure, are you going to come with us to the bar?" Troy asked, his smile genuine and welcoming, "I'd love you have you there, RenRen."

"I don't drink," Renee shrugged, trying to get out of it.

"You don't have to drink," Troy shrugged back, urging her on, "You can have water or something. Come on, it's my birthday, and you're special to me. It wouldn't be the same without you."

His words were almost sickly sweet, and Renee had to compose herself quickly before she made a ridiculous face. Brushing a piece of hair from her eyes, she glanced off somewhere in the room, before looking back to Troy.

"I'll have to do something first," she answered, "But I'll come, okay?"

"Sure," Troy nodded, "We won't be leaving right away anyway."

Renee exhaled deeply, and forced herself to smile, trying her best to avoid meeting Amy's accusing glare.

* * *

John was lying stretched out on his cot in the Spartan's mess. It had been days since he'd returned from the mission, where he, Kelly, James, Will and Linda each gave their own speeches of the battle and what had gone down. The NOVA bomb, being an early prototype, John wasn't surprised to find that the Top Brass weren't completely satisfied with the results, yet it had destroyed an entire planet. He wondered why they didn't consider its immediate possibilities – if they ever located a Covenant planet, they could destroy it instantaneously. Instead, the NOVA bomb's prototype was once again going to be examined and tweaked slightly and checked for faults. A team had already been sent to the remnants of Capricornia to check for any possible harmful gasses or radiation that could cause harm to passing ships or nearby planetary systems. Once this had been decided upon, John and his fellow Spartans who'd accompanied him on the mission were made to take the oath of silence – to not mention the NOVA bomb, to pretend they had never been sent on the mission and that the whole ordeal never happened. They did without question, but John couldn't help but wonder, who exactly were the Spartans going to tell?

John yawned, and glanced across the room, where the majority of the Spartans were. Will and James were grappling foolishly in the center of the room, dashing out of attempted headlocks and holds – mostly because of boredom. The other Spartans were reading, sleeping or talking quietly among one another. They were all anxious and the unused energy and talent was beginning to well up in them, become an annoying conscience in all of their minds - they were meant to fight – and having nothing to do was pretty much driving them crazy. Of course though, they didn't _act _crazy, but John could tell beneath the expressionless masks of their faces that they were itching for someone to call on them. Even John was himself, for he had no Renee and Amy there to keep him occupied.

There had been no news at all as to what their next mission would be – and it was frustrating. It had been a lot easier for John to pass time when he had been with Renee, but even though he was with his fellow Spartans, he felt alone as ever. Kelly was still pretty bitter towards him, and that was another irritation added to the mix. She didn't really bluntly show it, but John had known her long enough to know what simply a raised eyebrow, a slight narrowing of her eyes, or a tiny frown portrayed.

John's wounds were healing. He was still utilizing the pills, but was down to only needing one every six to eight hours. His shoulder still occasionally ached, but his burns had almost completely healed and his ribs didn't seem to bother him as much anymore. He was able to bend over and touch his toes – this was proven so during a trip to the exercise room – and walk and run without it being much of a hindrance to him.

He was really bored, so much that he decided the best thing to do would to be sleep – which he realized he'd been doing a lot lately, more than normal in fact. So that's exactly what he did.

* * *

The _Hercules_ arrived on Reach late in the afternoon. It was a rocky, fiery decent through the atmosphere, and then a calm and careful ride through to the large docking bay by the military facility. The huge ship carefully docked in the large hangar bay, and once everything was secure, the marines onboard were allowed to leave.

When Amy, Renee, Troy and the others crossed the black tarmac, weaving their way through Pelicans and Longswords towards their way to the main military facilities, they enjoyed the feeling – though it was slightly weird – to be back on a planet with natural gravitational forces. The sun was there to welcome them, poking its face through the white puffy clouds, warming their faces and brightening their moods.

They all were dressed in plain uniforms bearing their ranks and names. Troy was wearing his hat, while Renee and Amy had left theirs on the ship, and instead put their hair back out of their faces. Renee, whose heart had been pounding since they had exited Slipspace into the Epsilon Eridani system, was incredibly excited, yet nervous at the same time. Her pace was noticeably quicker than the others, and she kept ahead of them a little, but no one really questioned it.

"I haven't been on Reach since my training," Troy declared, as they walked onto a concrete path snaking its way up to the main building – which was tall and proud looking, "It's good to be back."

Amy replied something, but Renee only half-listened. She never thought that she'd ever be here on Reach, and now that she knew she was possibly so close to John again, it was almost impossible to calm down. As she hurried up the steps to the front doors, she heard the others talking about her. Troy was asking where she was going, and moody Amy told him the truth – that she was going to try and find John. Then, she heard Amy begin to say something about a taxi, but Renee didn't get to hear the end of it as she walked into the building, the doors closing behind her and blocking out the outside noise. She paused on the mat, and looked across the spacious foyer, with its polished floors, comfortable looking chairs with leather upholstery, and large exotic plants stretching up towards the ceiling. For a moment, it seemed like she had just walked into a hotel instead of Reach's military base, but as she got a closer look, medals and pictures posted on the walls, and a large flag bearing the UNSC emblem hung from the ceiling, it was hardly so.

Same for the people, who were dressed in cleanly pressed uniforms showing off their glittering medals and ranks. They whisked down hallways, to and from the elevators, all busy with their own job to do or message to deliver.

At the front desk, the girl there was also dressed nicely compared to her. There was a short woman wearing a lab coat talking to her, and when Renee noted her grey streaked dark hair, she realized it was Dr. Halsey.

"Dr. Halsey, ma'am!" Renee declared, her voice coming out clearly as she stood awkwardly a few feet away from the desk, and saluted appropriately.

Dr. Halsey turned around, and recognized her instantly, and she gave her a little smile.

"Corporal," she gave a little nod, and didn't question her presence. Renee guessed that she was already aware of the _Hercules__'_arrival. Renee cleared her throat and folded her arms behind her back, and lowered her voice a little before she spoke:

"Are they…" she began, but Dr. Halsey was quick to answer, for she knew the question before even having to hear it.

"Yes they are. I'll have someone show you the way," she said, and waved down a red haired young man wearing a uniform, although he bore no rank. He came over quickly, saluting and addressing her with a "ma'am." Dr. Halsey gestured to Renee, "Would you mind showing Corporal Kilburn to the Spartan's mess?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young man answered, and started off down the hallway, saying, "This way, please."

Renee was quick to follow, as the man led her down the long hallway, which was cleaner and more glamorous than any corridors of the _Hercules_ had been. It was a nice difference. The man seemed jittery as he stopped several feet ahead of her, and gestured towards the door to his right.

"Here you are," he told her briskly, and he was off before Renee could get a chance to thank him. She turned and looked to the door, and glanced to the complex panel by the side, not sure of the combination. Just as she was raising her fist to knock, the doors slid open, and the doorway was almost filled with Kelly's tall frame.

Renee who was a little startled, looked up to Kelly's ghostly pale face, and watched as it instantly changed expressions. Her blue eyes – which were so bright against the backdrop of her pale skin - narrowed and the corners of her thin mouth turned down into a faint, yet noticeable frown. For a second, Renee didn't say anything, feeling intimidated with a glare that Kelly suddenly shot her down with.

"What are _you _doing here, Corporal?" Kelly demanded icily.

"My ship is here to restock on supplies," Renee answered, disturbed by Kelly's tone. What on earth was her problem? The way she'd opened the door and looked at her was like a wealthy person would look down upon a homeless person on the street. There was silence, Kelly didn't reply, but instead just looked at her with that icy expression. Renee took a deep breath.

"Is John…" she began.

"Yes."

"Can I…" she began again.

"He's sleeping."

"Oh," Renee frowned, somewhat irritated by Kelly's unfriendliness and curtness of her words. She spoke in monotone and her expression didn't falter. Renee took a deep breath and started again, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I…"

"I _said_, he's sleeping," Kelly snapped coldly, her features hardening even more.

Renee stood her ground, although she was no match to Kelly, who she mustn't forget was as strong as John. She could easily throw her through a wall, but Renee was determined. She came here to see John, and she wasn't about to let Kelly turn her away. John wouldn't care if he was woken up if he got to see her.

"Can I please see him?" Renee asked, remaining firm.

Kelly didn't answer, instead she stepped out into the hallway, and the door closed behind her. Renee instantly took a step backwards, looking up unsurely at her.

"No, you can't," Kelly answered after a long beat, "And before you go whining any further, let me tell you why. John's decided that it would be the best if you no longer associate with one another. It's completely unprofessional, and you have proven to be nothing but a hindrance to him. The day after he left the _Hercules_, we went into the training fields for a practice mission, and John carelessly ran onto a minefield. One blew up, and he was severely injured – because his mind wasn't on what mattered. After that, he made his decision that he can no longer continue associating with you or any of your friends – permanently."

Renee's mouth hung open, and she stared in bewilderment at Kelly. She was lost for words, and for a moment she thought Kelly was joking, but her words had been coldly sincere. The initial shock slowly began to seep in as Renee mentally replayed Kelly's words in her mind. She blinked several times, and shook her head, not willing to believe her.

"That's absurd," she stammered, at first her voice had been a hard thing to find, "He… he… wouldn't do such a thing."

"John's not going to see you anymore," Kelly repeated, "And he's not going back on the _Hercules_. So you can stop wasting your time, and get over it. You and John are from two different categories, and he's not allowed to love. He's glad that he made this decision before things got too complicated, and no offense, but I don't understand what he could have seen in a weak, clumsy little marine like you, anyway."

Renee stepped backwards from Kelly, her mouth still hanging open. Kelly could see that her words were really taking the desired effect, each sentence hitting her like a ton of bricks. She watched as Renee's expression faltered, her lip quivered, and her eyes were glittering with tears.

Renee gave a little nod, biting her lip, and then she turned on her heel, and hurried off down the hallway, her footsteps echoing on the floor. As she walked, her tears blurred her vision, and she felt the heat rushing to her face and could hear her heart pounding in her ears. This was crazy; she didn't want to believe it. How could John do such a thing? How could he fully sacrifice their relationship for the sake of himself? Maybe he was with Kelly, even, after all she knew every detail like it was her own business. No, none of this made any sense, but she was too hysterical at the moment to try and figure it out.

Kelly's words echoed in her mind, "_John__'__s not going to see you anymore._"

To Renee, her surroundings were a blur as her legs carried her automatically towards the main doors. She blew past Dr. Halsey and the girl at the reception desk, and out the doors as the tears finally escaped her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, and she choked out a sob, pressing her back of her hand tight against her mouth in an attempt to stop it. She heard Dr. Halsey start to say her name, but the doors closed, and Renee hurried down the steps and along the path, until she came to the nearest bench, and fell onto it, her hand still pressed to her mouth to stop sobs that very much wanted to force their way from her throat. A few tears rolled down her cheeks, but instead of sadness, Renee quickly recognized the emotion that was overwhelming her – anger and frustration. She just couldn't believe it, she'd been duped, she'd been had. All that time she shared with John, and he could just cast her aside without a second thought?

Renee let her head drop onto her knees, wallowing in disbelief.

* * *

Kelly watched as Renee hurried off down the hallway, clearly upset. It was so obvious on her face, and how she had just taken her words and hadn't even anything to say. For a moment, Kelly felt sympathetic for her, but her expression hardened. What she had just told the young Corporal had been all a lie, but a necessary lie, for the sake of John's safety. Even since the incident in the mine field, Kelly knew that John still allowed himself to think of Renee. Not during battles, perhaps, but whenever they were in their mess, eating dinner in the cafeteria or any other time of general leisure, it didn't take a scientist to figure out he was obviously thinking about her. She was concerned. John had been seriously injured, and could've been killed.

Even though it was years ago, Kelly hadn't forgotten Sam's untimely death. It had hurt her, and it still did. When Sam was killed, she realized how easily she could lose one of her fellow soldiers, and ever since then, Kelly silently feared for her fellow Spartan's lives.

When John had carelessly run into that mine field, and she had watched one explode, watch John's body be tossed into the air and drop into the dirt with a sickening thud, she had felt sick. She had feared for his life, and even when she learned he'd be fine, still feared. She didn't want John to be hurt again – and be hurt again he could, if that Renee was in the picture. This was the best way to protect him, even though she felt somewhat guilty for having just pulled such a thing – but it was like any other mission she'd been on, to her it had made sense, it had to be done.

Kelly was just turning around to walk back into the room, when the door slid open, and John was standing there, dressed simply in a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants and his dog tags. She froze and met his eyes, which were cold and black, and realized that he must have heard what she'd said to Renee. Yes, judging by his expression, he'd heard every word.

"John," she said, "I was simply acting in your best interest…"

John didn't say anything. He brushed past her and hurried down the hallway, breaking into a half-ran, half-jog. He didn't care that he wasn't wearing any shoes, as he breezed on through the lobby and out the main doors. John stopped on the top of the stairs, scanning the area for Renee, but he couldn't see her. However, he spotted Troy, Amy, Josh, Kirk and Blaine. They were all walking down towards the road. Where they were going, he wasn't sure. John clattered down the stairs, and cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "Amy!" as he began to hurry down the path towards the road. Amy turned around, smiled, but the others just looked at him and turned back around, uninterested. He jogged up to her and demanded quickly,

"Did you see Renee?"

"She went to see you," Amy began, but suddenly she looked past him, and waved someone to come over, crying, "There you are!"

John whipped his head around, and saw Renee walking down the path towards them. Her nose and eyes were red, like she had been crying, but other than that, she was perfectly composed. He noticed her haircut, and mentally noted to tell her how much he liked it when he got everything settled, and he cleared his throat, and started to say her name, but Renee didn't even look at him, she smiled at Amy, and joined up with her.

"Are the taxis here yet?" her voice was fake, a high pitched happy chirp.

"Not yet," Amy answered, and John saw her features become confused at Renee not even acting like John was there. He looked to Renee, who glanced up to his eyes for a moment. He could tell just by her expression that she was upset, but her eyes flickered back to Amy.

"Renee," John began, but she ignored him, biting her lip.

"I'm going over to wait with the others," she announced to Amy, and brushed past her. Amy watched her go with a bewildered look, and then glanced back to John.

"What the hell?" she whispered lowly, "What's going on with you two?"

"I… there's been… Kelly said…" John stammered.

"The taxis are here!" Troy called to Amy, and she turned around and held up one finger for him to wait, she whipped back around to John, raising her eyebrow.

"Just tell her it's a lie," John said, "Exactly those words."

"Sure," Amy seemed confused, but she nodded.

"_Amy_!"

"Just a second!" she shouted, not bothering to look back over her shoulder, and then continued, "I will tell her, got it. Is she mad at you?"

"I'll explain later," John replied quickly, "Where are you going?"

"The bar, for Troy's birthday, he's twenty-three today."

"AMY!"

"I gotta go. I'll tell her, though, okay?"

"Alright, thank you," John answered, and he stepped back and watched as Amy ran down to the second taxi, where Troy was holding the door open for her. Renee was still waiting with him, and the others had already gotten in the first taxi. John's eyes were glued to her, and he could only stand there. Amy got into the taxi, and then it was Renee's turn, however, before she did, she flipped her head back over her shoulder to look at him. Her mouth was puckered into a vicious frown, and she shot him a glare, the sun reflecting off her tear stained cheeks. Then, she turned and got into the back seat of the taxi, closing the door with a slam.

John could only watch as the two taxis drove away down the road, in the direction of the gates leaving the military base. He was utterly floored by the look Renee had given him, and felt hurt. A part of him wanted to chase after the taxi, stop it, pull her out and tell her that it had all been Kelly's doing… but he trusted Amy to tell her the right things.

Although John decided then and there that it would be better if he could call up a taxi and go to the bar himself.


	26. Repercussions

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**[April 2****nd****, 2535 ****–**** Outside of the Military Base - Reach]**

It was a rather quiet and awkward taxi ride to the bar. The drive took about ten minutes, and the majority of it was filled with silence. The taxi cab driver attempted to make conversation with the marines, but it didn't really work, and he was the kind of man who seemed to prefer not talking much anyway. Troy seemed happy enough, with an average smile on his face, but he kept to himself and looked out the window at the buildings passing by. Amy, who was squished between Renee and Troy, was contemplating when it would be a good time to bring up what John had told her to tell Renee. Her friend, like Troy, was gazing out the window, but she wasn't smiling. Her hands were on her lap but she was wringing them nervously, cracking her knuckles and twisting and contorting her fingers as she kept her eyes glued to the window. The little make up she'd applied before leaving the _Hercules_ was washed away where the tears had fallen down her face.

Amy was confused and felt somewhat left out in the dark. There was something that had gone on between Renee and John, and it obviously hadn't been anything good – even John didn't tell her about it. He had just told her to deliver the message "It's a lie". What was a lie? This made Amy even more curious as to what had gone on in those short few minutes Renee had gone in to see him. They had been fine when John left weeks ago, and now everything had turned upside down. Amy wasn't a hundred percent sure why, but she had suspicions that the other Spartans had something to do with what was going on. Their attitude towards marines, especially Renee, had been quite obvious on Lacerta; they didn't seem too approving of John's relationship.

For a moment, she suspected that maybe Renee thought John was cheating on her with Kelly, or perhaps even walked in on something, but John seemed too loyal of a person to do that and in Amy's opinion, Kelly wasn't really that pretty. Her blue eyes could be attractive if they weren't so suspicious looking, and she had a rather pointy nose that seemed to be the dominant feature on her pale face. She was average, Amy decided; at least her face was anyway. Though she'd never seen her without the armor, Amy recalled a time where she had seen a woman body-builder on the front of a magazine back on earth, with exaggerated muscles and her whole upper body looked out of proportion. Women with large muscles were just weird, and Amy had no doubt that Kelly and the rest of the female Spartans would be abnormally muscular, thus taking away from the hourglass physique of normal women. Not at all attractive to general males, but who knows with the male Spartans – but Amy knew that John wouldn't cheat. He just wasn't that type.

Then what had happened? Something with Kelly or one of the other Spartans, so Amy went to the next best thing – one of them must have told Renee something to turn her against John, a scheme similar to ones used by gossiping high school girls, perhaps. That they saw him with another girl, or that he had a previous girlfriend and was bringing her up into conversation, or maybe even that John wasn't interested in her anymore.

That made sense with what John told her to say to Renee. But Amy realized that now wouldn't be the best time to go through with it, especially with a taxi driver and Troy being present. Though Amy knew the taxi driver wouldn't listen, or if he did, wouldn't particularly care – but Troy would be no doubt all ears.

They arrived at the designated bar, and the taxi driver stopped by the curb, and looked to them all in the rearview mirror, and declared, "This is the closest bar; it's kind of a night club too, I know another bar that's a couple more miles down the road, but that'd be another five dollars."

"No, this is fine," Troy smiled, glancing momentarily out to the curb, where Kirk, Blaine and Josh had already been dropped off and were waiting outside for them. He hastily dug in his pocket and took out the appropriate change and dropped it into the driver's waiting palm, "Thanks for the ride."

"Not a problem," he answered, "You kids have fun. Just call when you want to go back to the base, we have lots of cabs, we've got quick pick up and will have you back to your officers before your curfew or whatever it is you marines have." He chuckled to himself.

"I will," Troy nodded, and thanked him again, and they all got out of the cab and walked up onto the curb. The sun was beginning to set, and as the two groups of friends met up, they stood outside for a moment. Renee hugged herself, feeling that the temperature had gone down since they'd left. She was so confused, but she made the mental decision that she would act appropriately and have fun. It was Troy's birthday, and she wasn't going to be a party pooper, so to speak. She glanced over to Amy, who made eye contact and gave her a little smile.

"So, this is the bar," Troy declared to the others, folding his arms on his chest, and looking at the building. It was windowless, and two large doors were the only entrance. A blue flashing neon sign was mounted above the doors, stating the name of the bar. One of the doors was open and loud electronic music with hard bass beats was blasting out of it.

"Yeah," Blaine grinned, "We peeked, and it's a club too!"

"The taxi driver mentioned that, yeah," Troy raised an eyebrow, "Are there a lot of people?"

"A whole crowd," Kirk nodded, "Awesome lights, sweet music, and by the looks of things lots of alcohol and some sexy girls too…"

Amy and Renee exchanged glances as Blaine, Josh and Kirk burst into laughter. Troy chuckled, but he wasn't as immature as the others. He looked at his friends, and clapped a hand on Blaine's shoulder in particular.

"We're Marines, guys, don't forget your ranks," Troy muttered, "I want appropriate behavior, no fights, keep it cool with any girls, got it? Set a good example."

"Yes, sir!" Blaine rolled his eyes, but he and the other two exchanged mischievous grins.

"Can we go in now?" Kirk seemed impatient.

"Go, go, go," Troy waved them in first, and he glanced back to Amy and Renee and rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "You two can be the good guys – well, girls – of this group. Please; I don't want you piss-loaded and throwing up all over yourselves, okay?"

"I can handle my drinks, Troy, don't worry about me," Amy raised her eyebrow. She had been drinking since she was sixteen and she took offense to his words. She decided to slug him in the shoulder, "I'm no lightweight – don't expect _me _to puke. Come on."

"Jeez!" Troy exclaimed as she hit him harder than he'd been expecting, "Alright, sorry Smythe, after you! Get going!"

Letting out a little chuckle, Amy went inside after the others. Renee decided to stick beside Troy – her confidence when it came to bars was low. Amy had dragged her to a couple before, but she never truly felt comfortable. As they walked in together, instantly, their ears were assaulted with music reaching decibels of dangerous levels - so loud that they could feel the floor vibrating beneath their feet with each beat of the bass. It took Renee a moment for her eyes to adjust to the hazy, multi-colored, flashing atmosphere of the bar, but after surveying the room she saw that Kirk, Blaine and Josh had already gone past the bar and into the large crowd of people converged around the DJ. She spotted Amy, however, predictably already over at the bar, ordering a drink, her hand in her pocket feeling around for change.

She was momentarily startled when she felt Troy lean towards her, his lips almost touching her ear:

"You gonna drink, or gonna follow the boys?" he asked, his voice loud to compete with the music. She turned to face him.

"I don't know," she replied, frowning. For a moment, her mind went back to John, but anger flew through her and at that moment she decided what she was going to do first. She cleared her throat, and leaned in close to Troy and said, "I think I need a drink."

"You, a drink?" Troy asked, surprised, but he seemed cool with the idea, "Okay. Must feel like really celebrating, eh, RenRen?"

She shrugged – why not.

They walked over and sat down at the bar beside Amy, who had already received her drink. It was a large glass, but because of the wacky hues in the room, Renee couldn't tell what it was. She leaned over to Amy,

"What are you having?"

Amy beamed.

"Whiskey and soda," she replied, her mouth curling up into a grin, "Great stuff."

"Sounds good," Troy remarked.

Renee, who hadn't tried any alcohol save for a couple of coolers and a few glasses of wine in her life, remained indifferent to what Amy described. She watched as her friend raised the glass to her lips and took a large drink to show off. She set down the glass and let out a whistle, shaking her head.

"Weoo, talk about strong!" she exclaimed, "That's what I've been missing!"

Troy chuckled.

"It won't be taking you long to feel that stuff, Amy, watch yourself," he warned, but all in good cheer. At this comment, Amy dismissed his worry with a wave of her hand.

"Bah! I trust you remember my seventeenth!"

"Oh Christ, yes," Troy said with a sigh. Amy had somehow gotten her hands on an entire quart of moonshine and wasn't sober for two days afterwards.

"As long as I don't get that bad," she laughed, "You don't have to worry – but someone might have to tolerate me leaning on their shoulder for the way home." She looked to Renee, "You've been that person more than once, RenRen, can I count on ya this time perhaps? Oh!" Amy looked down at the whiskey-soda mix, and held it out to her, "Try this stuff, you might want to order your own."

"Sure," Renee replied, feeling a little thrill somewhere at trying the concoction. She swiped the glass out of her hand, and both Troy and Amy watched her as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. The sweetness of soda, with an underlying bitterness that, on its way down her throat, developed into a burning sensation – and she coughed, "Strong!" she made a face, and handed it back, "But good!"

The three of them laughed.

"Here, Troy, try it too!"

He did, also unable to succeed without making a face.

"Jeez Amy, you've got quite a taste," he remarked as Amy took her drink back, downing another gulp, "But it's strangely good."

The bartender came up to them, looking to Troy and Renee.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked.

"Two whiskey-sodas, please," Troy was polite and ordered for Renee as well. The bartender nodded and went over to make the drinks. Troy glanced over to Renee and for a moment saw an angry frown was on her face. Instinctively, he reached over and put his hand over hers. Their eyes met, and Troy thought that she was going to pull it away, but she didn't.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm just stressed," Renee answered, forcing herself to smile, "This drink will help me feel better." The one sip had given her a strange warm, fuzzy feeling – only faint, yet she was sure it could increase.

"I know what you mean," Troy was agreeable, and he glanced down to his hand over hers, savoring the moment, and then he looked up to her eyes again, which for a moment looked like they were welling up with tears, but she blinked, and turned away as their drinks came. They thanked the bartender, and then Troy raised his glass to hers, and Amy's.

"Cheers," he said to the two girls.

"Happy Birthday cheers," Renee smiled. Amy laughed, though nothing was really funny, and she raised her already half-empty glass to theirs with a not-so-steady hand, and they clinked glasses, then took a drink. Troy took a mouthful, but was surprised to see Renee tip her head back and chug well over a quarter of the glass.

"Renee!" Troy seemed surprised.

"Look at her go!" Amy roared approvingly.

Renee set her glass down, coughing violently for a moment, but quickly recovered to smile at her and Troy.

"That'll start me off well," she remarked.

"You haven't got much drinking experience under your belt, RenRen," Troy said carefully, "Don't drink too much or guaranteed you'll be hugging the toilet for the remainder of the night."

"This little bit will take its effect soon," Renee said, already feeling the warm and fuzzy feeling increasing. Her cheeks felt warm, "And that's all I'll have, promise."

* * *

Fifteen minutes passed and the three friends drank and socialized at the bar – and the effects were nearly felt in full force. Amy was noticeably drunk, her eyes looked glazed and everything to her seemed highly amusing, but she insisted – despite Troy's objections – on ordering another glass for herself.

"Oh, this is nothing," she said with a sly grin, "I'm not even slurring my words yet!"

After this, however, she laughed at the expression that overcame Troy's face. He'd been sipping sensibly away at his glass, and almost half of it was gone – but he was careful to watch himself. He was rather buzzed and could tell by the unsteadiness the room seemed to have when he looked about, it was about his limit. Drinking much more than that wouldn't be appropriate or responsible. He felt good, and was enjoying himself – this was enough. Sitting here with Amy and Renee was giving him something to smile about, and occasionally, share a laugh with Amy as she prattled on drunkenly about the old times.

He looked to Renee, who had been fairly silent except for when she took time to laugh along with whatever Amy seemed to find funny or if she'd say something particularly humorous. He could tell by the look on her face that she was feeling the effects of what she had hastily drank a few minutes ago. She was watching Amy with a smile, drunkenness visible in her eyes, a glittering happiness. She took a drink from her glass, and that's when Troy realized she'd almost finished it after saying she wouldn't.

"How are you feeling, RenRen?" he asked her.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, seeming unsteady as she turned to look at him. A giggle rose in her throat, but she sort of choked on it and leaned forward onto the bar, resting her head momentarily on the counter, looking up at him, "Feeling great, LT! Weoo, this is great, so great," She giggled after this, "And I can forget…" she raised her head from the counter, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again dizzily. She spun her nearly-empty glass, and it wobbled, but Troy snatched out to steady it, and she looked up to him, "I can forget all my troubles."

Beside her, Amy was drunk, yet thoughtful. How Renee said "Forget all her troubles", made her think. There was something … she knew… something she was going to tell Renee… but she couldn't remember what it was - not at all. Well, if she couldn't remember it, it mustn't have been that important, so she brushed it off with laughing – at nothing in particular.

Renee turned, and looked at her, and started laughing too, and the two girls were soon laughing at nothing – laughing so hard that they were almost brought to tears. Renee felt really happy, like she could do anything, so she spun lightly on her chair to turn to face Troy, brushing away a tear from her cheek the fit of laughter had brought on. She smiled at him, and got up off the chair, and perched herself on his lap, her arms encircling his neck to steady herself.

"Wanna dance, Lieutenant Fisher?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her face rather close to his. Troy was instantly surprised by her actions and question she asked of him, but instantly enjoyed the fact of being so close to her. For a moment, he couldn't find his words, but luckily they were both distracted for a moment, when Amy let out a squeal and started laughing again, pointing at the two of them. With a strangled gasp, she lost her balance and fell right off her chair with a thud. Renee and Troy broke into laughter, and Amy, who lay flat on her back, laughed too.

"Ah, I'm fine!" Amy drawled, giggling, as she crawled her way back up to her chair. She looked to the bartender, "See that?"

Troy and Renee looked back to one another, their eyes glazed with drink.

"Dance?" she asked, smiling.

"Definitely," he replied eagerly without a second thought. They both got up, standing still for a moment to gain their balance. Renee was rather steady on her feet, or seemed confident enough to think so. She grabbed Troy's hand, intwining her fingers with his – and Troy, drunk, of course didn't object. They staggered towards the crowd of dancing people together, rather unsteadily, hand-in-hand. They dove right into the midst of it, close to the speakers as possible.

"This is… really loud!" Renee screamed, but giggles followed, "Just how I like it."

Troy's arms encircled her waist and he pulled her close, and they started dancing, slowly although it was more of a song to just jump around to. Renee smiled at him, throwing her arms about his neck, not at all minding the closeness. She threw her head back to laugh, then met his eyes.

"You know, I've really missed you," she announced, giggling, "Like you know, I missed you Troy, I really did. Remember those times? I missed you."

"I've missed you too," Troy raised his hand up to her face, but she snatched his hand away, only to spin away from him with a hearty laugh. Playing along, Troy pulled her close again and she squealed like a little girl, happy again to be in his arms. To both of them, they were amazed and fascinated by their surroundings and each other, brought on by their lack of sobriety.

Troy cautiously put his face closer to hers, "It could be just like how it used to be, if you get rid of Spartan."

"Spartan!" she repeated, her voice slurred, and started laughing again, and then she remembered John and frowned, "He doesn't like me anymore; he's too concerned about his stupid Spartan missions! Well I don't care; I can have you Troy."  
"Yes, you can," Troy nodded. Yeah, he could _really _get used to this Renee. He wondered if what she was actually saying was true. If it was, he could possibly have her back. John would be permanently out of the picture… and how nice that would be…

Renee laughed, and broke away from him to jump into a vacant place on the dance floor to spin around and jump, fascinated by the lights as she spun. Several pieces of her hair came loose as she did, but she didn't really care. She wobbled for a moment, dizzied, but Troy rushed forward, grasping her around the waist, and he pulled her back against him, not bothering to turn her around to face him. He tightened his grip around her small body, and she raised her hands to put them over his. Their fingers intertwined, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, and they slowly danced, swaying back and forth.

Troy smirked, as he leaned his face down to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smelled like whiskey mixed with some type of perfume, a smell that was all of a sudden intoxicating to him. Hesitantly, he lowered his lips to her neck, and began to nibble kisses along her skin – just like how they used to do years ago. How he'd missed this – and her response was just the same. She sighed and just allowed him to kiss her, with her alcohol-induced mind not able to tell her this wasn't right.

At that moment, she turned her face towards him, and he abandoned her neck, and slowly put his lips to hers – something he'd desperately missed. She kissed him back, so willingly… Troy for a moment thought this was a dream. Honestly he thought he'd never kiss her ever again. He deepened the kiss, pulling her closer against him; they were adults now, not high school seniors. He paused for a moment, and decided on the more inviting movement of slipping his tongue cleverly through her lips.

Not far away Kirk, Josh, and Blaine were plain witnesses to the surprising make out session between the Lieutenant and the Corporal, and laughed and exchanged surprised comments. Like Troy, it was nothing they thought they would see again.

And poor Renee, was too drunk to realize anything was wrong, Troy was taking advantage, and Amy, impossibly drunk at the bar was no real help, having completely forgotten about the message she was supposed to tell Renee.

That's when a certain Spartan walked in the front door. He was wearing the same things he had been before, though this time with shoes. For a moment, the loud music and flashing lights alarmed him, but he regained his concentration, not allowing the strange place to make him forget why he was here. He scanned the room, the large crowd over by the speakers, and then the bar, where he spotted Amy – her normally red hair flashing from blue to pink to green under the crazy lights. He felt relieved, and walked over to her.

"Amy!" he said, and she turned to look at him, somewhat startled. Her eyes grew wide, and she gasped, and wobbled for a moment, but a smile broke out on her face.

"John!" she laughed, and waved at him although he was right in front of her, "Hello!"

John narrowed his eyes at her odd expression, but he made the connection that the glass in front of her was filled with alcohol. He'd heard how it could change people.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Amy exclaimed, giggling, and she reached over to touch his arm, "Hey, you don't look so pale in these lights! Anyway, Troy and Renee and the others left me all alone here… they went to go dance."

"Did you tell Renee what I told you to?" John inquired, glancing over towards the crowd where Renee must be. He couldn't see her amongst the people. She must be really mixed into the crowd with Troy and the others. He frowned at the thought, but he glanced back to Amy.

"Tell her wha..?" Amy drawled, raising her eyebrow.

"Amy, you don't remember?" John asked in disbelief, staring at her wide eyed.

"No," she replied, shaking her head, "Though Renee seems to like the whiskey-soda…" she gestured towards the almost-empty glass still sitting where Renee had left it. John looked to the glass and then back to Amy.

"Alcohol?" he asked.

"Hell yeah," Amy laughed, "It's great!"

John narrowed his eyes, and swiped Renee's glass off the table, and took a drink. The liquid was a mixture of sweet and bitter that burned his throat on the way down. He made a face at first, but realized how easily a person could be fooled into forgetting about the alcohol and drink it in large amounts. He set the glass down, and saw Amy was staring at him, like she was waiting for a response.

"Renee shouldn't be drinking this," he declared, "Neither should you, Amy. This is irresponsible behavior; you clearly aren't in your right frame of mind."

"But it's fucking good!" Amy slurred, "Don't you think so?" she paused thoughtfully, "You're really hot, like the lights make you so sexy looking. Kiss me, it wouldn't hurt."

John got to his feet, pushing Amy back down on the stool as she tried to get close to him.

"You don't know what you're saying," he muttered, holding her down easily.

"Oh but I do," she said with a sly grin, "Kiss me John, show me those tips! I bet Renee won't mind!"

John ignored her and stalked off towards the crowd of dancing people. He shook his head, amazed at what an affect alcohol could have on people – Amy in particular. It was kind of amusing to have her gushing all over him, but he remembered he was here to find Renee and apologize appropriately to her – but he had a feeling now it wouldn't be as easy, not when Renee had consumed that whiskey-soda. She would be out of her mind, just like Amy.

As he walked into the crowd, he stood taller than everyone else in the room, and used this as an advantage to try and spot Renee. He was looking around for her, and spotted lots of dark haired women, but none of them were Renee, they weren't wearing uniforms, but instead civilian clothes of skirts and skimpy little shirts that showed their stomachs. They were with other men, dancing with them in ways that John thought wasn't appropriate for public settings. He shook his head, remembering these were strange civilians he was dealing with, men and women who decided to live a sheltered life and pretend that the war wasn't going on.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his elbow, and John whipped around, expecting to see Renee, but instead, he saw a blonde girl, wearing a lot of make-up, smiling at him. She was taller than Renee, but not nearly as beautiful. John was confused, and gave her a little nod.

"Ma'am?"

"Hey," she smiled largely, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, "My name's Felicia! What's yours?" She batted her lashes, and John noticed the way she spoke wasn't really normal. It had a tone to it that was carrying some underlying interest.

"John-117," he answered, narrowing his eyes.

"117?" she asked, touching his arm again lightly, "Oh, you must be from the military base. Nice. I love military boys." She grinned again, "They're always so much more fun." She bit her lip.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" John asked, not liking the way she was getting so close to him, so he took a step backwards.

"Well, it depends," Felicia pursed her lips, "I can help you, if you like. Because I know how lonely you can get in the military…" she raised her eyebrow, and lowered her voice, "Let's go somewhere more private."

"Excuse me?" John asked, utterly confused now.

"Oh don't play dumb," she giggled, "You know _exactly _what I'm talking about."

"I'm sorry, but I don't," he answered truthfully, "Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm looking for someone." John brushed past her and walked further into the crowd, and was glad when she didn't follow. It was so weird, he never thought women would come up to him and be so interested.

That's when he spotted Josh, Kirk and Blaine. They each had found themselves a girl, and they were standing talking to them. John hurried up to them, and they all craned their necks to look up to his face. The girls they were with were surprised by his height.

"Master Chief," Josh gave him a nod, "Didn't expect to see you here."

John watched as he, Kirk and Blaine exchanged sly grins.

"Think you're a little late," Blaine told him, a smirk sprawled across his face.

"What?" John raised his eyebrow.

Blaine and Kirk took to laughing, and John abandoned them and looked to Josh for the answer. Josh folded his arms on his chest, and gestured back over his shoulder.

"Renee's there, but she's a little busy at the moment," he said, "With the LT."

John felt his adrenaline spike, as he looked up, and spotted Renee and Troy. His arms were around her and the two of them were _kissing_. At the sight of this, John felt his heart begin to pound, and everything seemed to slow down – the music died away into a background murmur, and he only heart the loud, steady ba-bump, ba-bump of his heart thudding wildly.

John started towards them, his hearing starting to come back – he heard Josh, Blaine and Kirk saying something and starting after him, and then Blaine yelled something to Troy, and then he and Renee broke from the kiss, and they turned around just as John reached them. He grabbed Troy by his shirt, and hauled him up off the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing to her!" John yelled, his voice easily heard over the music. Troy looked dumbfounded, for him it had just been like John had appeared out of nowhere. He was also surprised that John had him suspended three feet in the air, it caused the room to wobble slightly, and he had to focus especially hard on John's face. John. He remembered then, that trouble-making Spartan… how did he get here?

"What did it look like to you?" he snapped, and he glanced back over John's shoulder to Josh, Kirk, and Blaine, who stood there doing nothing. They were all terrified to even touch John, and he knew it. Damn it, he had no back up.

"You're taking advantage of her," John said lowly, "I could… I could…"

"Do what?" Troy was cocky from the drink, "Put me down and I'll show you a fight, asshole!"

"She has no idea what she's doing," John ignored Troy's words. He could smell the alcohol off the Lieutenant and realized he was drinking too. Fed up with drunks, he dropped Troy on the floor, and whipped around to face Renee, who was disoriented and sure what to do. She looked to Troy, who hadn't been able to catch himself in time and ended up on his butt on the floor, then back up to John, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a high pitched squeal, "Don't hurt him!"

"You don't know what you're saying," John told her, his shoulders heaving with anger, "You don't know what you're doing. Come with me." He grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her along behind him. Renee, who couldn't fight against him, started to cry.

Behind them, Troy got unsteadily to his feet, and seemed intent on charging after John, but quickly, his friends restrained him.

"Lemme kill that bastard," he drawled.

"Whoa, LT, settle down."

"You don't wanna fight him."

"He'd kill _you_, come with us."

Troy, instantly swayed, nodded drunkenly and allowed his friends to lead him off.

"I'm so confused!" Renee was sobbing to John, "What are you doing? You hated me."

John allowed her to drabble, knowing that she put no sense into her words, that the alcohol had totally altered her emotions and opinions. He knew that the best thing was to get her out of here, for her sake, and for his own. He was so angry at Troy, that everything was telling him to go back there and kill him. This, by far had been the worst he'd done.

He paused momentarily at the bar to tell Amy he was taking Renee back to the base, but Amy was passed out, lying on the bar counter snoring. He glanced to the bartender, who gave him a shrug. John gave up, and he took Renee outside, onto the darkened streets. Not many cars were going by, and he pushed her up against the wall.

"I don't feel good," Renee muttered, holding her head, "I… don't know… why are you here…"

"Shhh," John said to her, holding his finger up to her lips, "You're drunk, I'll explain everything later when you can understand, I promise."

"I want to leave," she slurred, "I don't want to be here anymore."

"I understand," he whispered softly, "And I'm going to take you back to the base now, okay?"

"I have like… money… for a cab…" Renee drawled, wiping a piece of hair out of her eyes, and she attempted to reach into her pocket, but she missed it and fumbled around, but John grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes.

"We don't need a cab," John said soothingly, "I can take you home myself."

"You… but… Kelly said we can't…" Renee replied, her face scrunching up into one of confusion.

"It was a lie," John told her, putting his hands on her small shoulders, "She lied, Renee. I'd never ever do that to you. I love you too much."

Renee nodded.

All of a sudden, her face transformed, her cheeks lost all color.

"I don't feel good," she muttered, "I don't feel good."

"Okay," John said, touching her face lightly, it was clammy, "How do you feel?"

"I think I'm gonna throw up," the idea of it seemed to upset her, and her eyes welled with tears, and her voice was muffled by a sob, "Oh, I'm gonna throw up."

She whirled away from him, clutching her stomach and staggering over. John went to help her, but then she was violently sick all over the place. He didn't let that bother him, instead, he pulled her hair back from her face and stayed with her until she was finished. Most of it was dry heaving, and in-between wretching, poor Renee cried and muttered apologies.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She kept saying.

"It's okay," John whispered, patting her back, hearing her as she sniffled and sniveled, choking on her sobs and trying to suppress the urge to keep dry-heaving. She coughed several times, her knees noticeably shaking. She had one hand on the wall to steady herself, but when she leaned her head against the brick wall and let out a shaky sigh, John knew that she couldn't throw up anymore.

He felt awful for her; he hated to see her like this, but he knew that she'd vomited most of the alcohol out of her system, now he had to just wait for what had gotten into her blood-stream to wear off.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again for what must've been the tenth time.

"Shh," he said quietly, "It's okay. Here," John gently bent down to put one arm under her knees and one behind her back, and he carefully lifted her into his arms, "Just close your eyes, and breathe… relax… you'll be fine."

She let her head fall back, and John started walking down the sidewalk, in the general direction of the military base. It was quite a way, but he was in no rush. He felt better now to just have Renee in his arms again.

"John?" she croaked.

"Mmm?"

"Are you angry with me?" she sounded like she was on the verge of tears once more. John guessed that she was now remembering that he had seen her kissing Troy, "Because John… I swear… I didn't…"

"I'm not angry with you," John answered soothingly, hoisting her up higher so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and nuzzle her face close to him. He leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead, "Just rest now."

She did as she was told, and soon enough, she had passed out. John glanced down to her face, something that he'd missed seeing so much in the last few weeks. Her sleeping expression was so innocent, he knew that he couldn't ever be mad at her even if he tried – but as far as he was concerned, she hadn't done anything wrong besides deciding to drink. It was ultimately Troy's fault; he was the one who took advantage of her being drunk. John didn't know much about this type of field, but he knew well enough that it was a horrible thing to take advantage of anyone – especially a man of a woman, when they were drunk. He shuddered when he thought of what other plans Troy was hoping to try with her. His anger rose, but then he exhaled a deep breath and it went down again. John was particularly proud of that he only had thrown Troy to the floor, for if he had put up a fight – or any of Troy's friends, it wouldn't have been a good ending to the scenario at all.

* * *

When John arrived back at the base, it was quiet and mostly everyone was asleep. He quietly walked down the hallway towards the Spartans' mess, cradling Renee in his arms. She was still asleep – and the whole half-hour walk it took him to get there, she hadn't so much as stirred. He guessed that the whiskey-soda really tuckered her out. John could smell the alcohol off of her, and it kind of reeked, it wasn't her usual smell. He hoped that when she woke up sober, that she would vow to never drink again, for it was just a recipe for disaster.

With one hand, he punched in the code for the Spartans' mess, and the door slid open. The majority of the Spartans were still not sleeping, and they all looked up to him as walked in, holding Renee in his arms. Their eyes followed as he carried her over to his bed, and laid her down, but no one spoke a word. John tucked her beneath the blankets, avoiding looking at Linda or Kelly as he did. He rose to full height, and glanced around the room at the other Spartans, who quickly looked away or looked down – pretending that they weren't looking at him. None of them protested.

He finally rested his gaze on Kelly, who was sitting on the side of her bed furthest away from his, with her back to him. John knew that she saw him bring Renee in, and he expected her to object the moment Renee was in the room, but she didn't. She didn't even move.

John gently moved Renee over a little, so there was enough room for him to lay down beside her on his side. He put his arm around her small, warm body, and he just had his eyes closed, when he heard Kelly's voice break the silence.

"John?"

He waited a moment before replying.

"Yes?"

There was another pause from Kelly.

"I'm sorry."

John nodded, and closed his eyes again.

"Acknowledged," he replied.

After that, there were no more words spoken, and John fell asleep.


	27. Turning Point

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**[April 3****rd****, 2535 ****–**** Reach Military Base, Reach]**

Renee slowly drifted into sub consciousness – the sweet melodic place between dreams and actual reality, where your vision is fuzzy and the two dimensions coincide, and you're left wondering what part is the dream and what is real. For her, she had a dream that was crazy and odd, combining people and places she knew with unrealistic circumstances, such as the ability to hover or some such thing. Her dream, John had been in it all along, donned in his armor, with an assault rifle in hand. He was constantly at her side, and they seemed to travel through the dreams together. Now, as she was awakening, the strong arms that were wrapped around her were bittersweet, for she guessed it was the dream, and she was waiting for them to disappear and to awake in her bed, all alone.

As well as trying to untangle the realms of dreams and reality, she also was beginning to remember the night before. Not the dreams, but what had actually happened. She remembered in the last moment, as all reminiscences of the dream faded away (but not the arms around her) that she wasn't on the _Hercules_. She was on Reach, and it had been Troy's birthday. She had been drinking, thrown up, and John had been there…

John…

Her eyes flew open, and she was startled at first to see the contents of a strange, unfamiliar room, filled with dozens of beds and people sleeping in them. The room was dimly lit, and the daylight was streaming in around the plain silver blinds covering the windows. That's when she realized the arms around her _were _reality, and she reached up to place her small hand on the large one that was securely resting on her stomach. She glanced down, and saw the large, calloused hand was familiar. A smile broke out on her lips, and suddenly, she heard a voice whisper in her ear.

"Good morning."

Renee's smile grew bigger, and she bit her lip.

"John?" she didn't need to ask, but she bothered anyway. She rolled onto her back, and found herself face to face with her Spartan. Dark circles under his serious eyes stood out incredibly against the backdrop of his pale skin, indicating his tiredness, but a smile broke out on his thin lips. His hair stood up slightly, evidence towards a restless night.

"How are you feeling?" his voice was kept at a whisper. On impulse, he pulled her closer to him.

"I…" Renee started, trying to sit herself up a little, but dropped back onto the pillow, "I feel an incoming headache."

John made a small sympathetic "hmm", and left it at that. He didn't know what else he could say that would make her feel better. He thought back to last night, which was still vivid in his mind, and wondered if Renee was able to remember it as clearly as well, but he didn't really want to bring it up.

Instead, he decided on the best probable option. He leaned in and kissed her – something that he hadn't done in a while. Instantly, the both of them felt better. Renee's breath still faintly smelled like alcohol, but John didn't particularly mind. He thought of deepening the kiss, but remembering that all of his fellow Spartans were in the same room with him instantly made him stop.

He pulled back, only to see Renee's face spin into an expression of disappointment.

"It's not just my room," he told her quietly, adding a clever raise of his eyebrow, "If it was, well…" he paused to bite back a laugh, a smirk crawling out on his lips, "Things could continue."

Renee smiled, biting her lip, and then she glanced around the room and back to him.

"The Spartans?" she inquired.

John nodded silently, his response making Renee's face sour.

"Kelly?" she mouthed, not daring to say it.

"She apologized, last night." John answered, his expression darkening, "Although, Kelly isn't my number one concern right now." He glanced around the room, and then back to her, "I want to talk to you, in a more… private place. Are you up for a little hike?"

Renee frowned, confused, but pushed aside that feeling and the oncoming headache and nodded, "Sure."

John got out of bed easily, then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out of bed too, swinging her around and setting her gently down on the floor. She wobbled slightly, but got a hold of her balance and glanced down at herself, meanwhile running her fingers feverishly through her slightly tousled hair. She felt warm, groggy and well, unusual. She guessed this was what she'd heard Amy complain about many times – a hangover.

"I never got to tell you," John said quietly, as he headed for the door, holding his hand out to her for her to take, "I love your new hair style." A smirk broke out on his lips.

Renee took his hand uncertainly, but smiled and muttered a thank-you.

"I don't need anything?" she asked, glancing back at the room of sleeping Spartans as they paused in the doorway.

"Just yourself," John answered quietly, "Come on."

She didn't protest as they walked down the hallway hand in hand, but silently regretted drinking last night. She didn't remember much at all, it was all foggy, with bits and pieces. Music, dancing, flashing lights, Amy, Troy, the others, John coming for her, her being sick. It wasn't a good night at all, and she had a strange feeling that was felt even with the headache that the night had been worse than she'd remembered. Had she done something to anger John? Is this why he wanted to speak to her alone? Of course there was the whole Kelly thing, but that was Kelly's fault, and John said that the troublemaking Spartan had apologized. He surely wouldn't get mad at _her _for what Kelly had done, would he?

On the way to the main lobby, Renee and John saw Dr. Halsey came out of a room ahead of them, looking quite red in the cheeks. Her laptop was slung under her arm, and a cup of coffee held in her other hand. She was wearing her signature lab coat and a blouse and a pair of slacks. She glanced up and saw them, and a smile came on her lips.

"Aren't you two up early," she greeted them as she approached, "How are you doing?"

Dr. Halsey glanced particularly to Renee, who remembered that she had been a witness to her storming out of the building the other afternoon. Renee was slightly embarrassed by holding John's hand in front of her, but John looked like he couldn't be more comfortable.

"Fine, ma'am," John nodded, and Renee muttered a response too, smiling.

"That's great," Dr. Halsey paused for a moment, although she looked jittery to keep on going, "I'm glad that you have a chance to see each other again so soon, it's a lucky coincidence that Captain Thomsen decided to come to Reach. Anyhow, I'm rather excited, I've just been granted permission to have full access to this facility's lab – I figured I mind as well begin to do some rather important research."

Dr. Halsey's eyes flickered up to John's, and instantly he felt a lump in his throat. He had a strange feeling that he knew what research Dr. Halsey was talking about. John nodded numbly.

"That's great," He commented, "Do let me know… if you learn anything at all."

"You'd be the first," Dr. Halsey replied, smiling, and then she turned and continued on her way, but paused and looked back over her shoulder again, "Are you going outside?"

"Yes ma'am," John replied.

"Is it ever nice, the sun's really warm," Dr. Halsey informed them, "I poked my head out a few minutes ago. And John, be sure to have Renee back before noon, since the _Hercules _is due to leave today."

"Yes, ma'am, of course," he answered, his face darkening upon the mention of the _Hercules _leaving. Dr. Halsey gave him a little smile, and then was off on her way. There was a moments silence between Renee and John as they watched her leave, but Renee looked up to John.

"What's up with the research she mentioned?"

"Oh, she just wants to conduct some research for us Spartans," John muttered. It wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't the absolute truth either. Besides, he wouldn't be sure of Renee's reaction if he told her in every detail what it was exactly Dr. Halsey was researching. He started off down the hallway again, pulling Renee along rather easily, "Let's go outside, I want to take advantage of the summer weather."

"Where exactly are we headed, John?" Renee asked, "I hope it's not too far, I'm not quite a hundred percent yet."  
"Just a favored place of mine," John answered as they walked out the main doors and into the sun, "I haven't been there since I was fourteen, but I doubt it has changed."

Renee paused to study John in the full on sunlight. He looked incredibly white, even next to her, and she wasn't close to being tan. His dark hair and matching eyes gave him a little contrast, as did his camo green shirt and matching pants, but even still, there was no doubt he was a Spartan.

John glanced down at Renee, only lowering his eyes, not his head, so it carried a rather pompous manner, but a little smirk that was fighting to come out on his lips took away from that aspect.

"What are you looking at, Corporal?" John inquired in the most authoritative voice.

"You," Renee answered truthfully, elbowing him in the ribs. Of course, he allowed it, for if he didn't want her to touch him; he could have easily dodged it. John watched in amusement as Renee let out a little groan, examined her elbow and remarked, "What are you made of? I mind as well have elbowed a boulder. You know, it'd be really, really awesome if I could be as tough as you."

"You can't," John answered, descending down the stairs two at a time, "But yes, I agree that if you were as tough as I was, I'd have less to worry about."

"There's no way I could ever become a Spartan?" Renee asked, hurrying after him.

"No way."

"Why? Not saying that I'm particularly interested, but let's say if I was, couldn't I just go and get the surgery or whatever?" Renee pressed.

"You just can't go," John extended his hand out to her, and she took it again, "Every one of us was selected, because we were bigger, stronger, faster, and more intelligent than the average person. No offense, but you're average. Even if you weren't, there is a chance that you could die during the surgery. It's not just something simple like just injecting some medicine and you transform overnight. Our genetic code was changed, our bones were graphed, our muscles and reflexes enhanced. Half of my Spartans died or were permanently crippled because of the surgery; there were over seventy of us. Now, everyone you saw in the room, we're the ones left."

"I'm sorry," Renee apologized, "That must have been horrible for you. I never knew it was like that, I understand now. I should have thought first."

"It's fine," John squeezed her hand gently, "But now you know."

They walked along in silence for a while, making their way down the concrete path, but Renee was surprised when John's head snapped up, and instantly stopped dead his tracks. She looked ahead, but didn't see anything, nor could she hear anything either.

"What?" Renee asked cautiously, tightening her grip on John's hand, noticing how tense it instantly became. For a moment, she thought Covenant, but knew that there were no Covenant on Reach. It was one planet they had yet failed to find.

Faintly, sound of voices came to Renee's ears, and she realized that John had heard them long before she could. She remembered how he had been able to hear Amy whispering, and cursed herself for being so stupid to not think of anything sooner.

As the voices grew nearer, John's grip on her hand tightened, to the point where she felt pain shoot through her tendons as her bones were slightly squeezed together. She grimaced, but realized John wasn't aware of how hard he was holding her. His eyes were locked to the path ahead of them, the veins in his neck sticking out. Renee was just about to mention her hand, but John glanced down at her, and his grip loosened.

"I'd say hold me back, but you can't." John declared.

"Why? Who's coming?" Renee asked, but she had mentally answered her question before it came from her mouth.

John's adrenaline spiked, his eyes were borderline carrying the expression that normally sent intimidation, or even fear, into a normal person who happened to catch the look. Renee exhaled:

"Troy?"

At that moment, the memory flooded back to her, of him _kissing _her, and her facial expression showed it. She looked absolutely disgusted, and looked up to John, her eyes wild with disbelief, her mouth hanging slightly open, but she quickly closed it and looked away from John.

"Oh god, please forgive me," she muttered, clapping her hand to her mouth.

John didn't get a chance to reply, for Troy, Amy, Josh, Blaine and Kirk came staggering into view. Kirk and Josh were holding Amy between them, her arms draped around their necks for support. Her head was hanging down on her chest, and she didn't look good at all. John's arm went lightning-quick around Renee's shoulders, and he pulled her close protectively, stepping to the side of the path. Troy was leading the group, and he strutted importantly down the path, looking relatively sober. He glanced momentarily at John as he approached, his eyes daggers.

"Mornin', Pasty," Troy greeted him, making a rather rude reference to John's paleness, "How ya feelin?"

John didn't say anything. He stared at Troy, his eyes black with anger. Renee avoided looking at Troy altogether, feeling absolutely disgusted with herself. She clenched her jaw nervously, her stomach flipping, knowing that this might not end nicely at all.

She glanced up without raising her head, and saw Troy had his arms folded on his chest, and he was looking at John patiently, as if he was expecting a response from him.

"Are you going to answer me?" Troy asked, but John didn't as much as move a muscle. He looked like a giant statue. Troy shook his head, and glanced to Renee, "Well I guess if you're not, I'll just talk to Renee…"

He took a step forward, but suddenly, there was a blur, and Renee's head snapped up just in time to see John's fist make contact with Troy's face with a sickening smack. A loud crack accompanied it, and Troy's head whipped to the side almost unrealistically. Renee gasped, along with Kirk, Josh, and Blaine. Amy, who was too dazed, didn't do anything except for stare.

"Holy shit!" Blaine shouted, as Troy staggered backwards, and fell somewhat idiotically onto the concrete, landing on his butt, staring blankly. Dark red blood pooled from his mouth and dripped from his nose. He let out a little groan, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed, clearly unconscious – or for all Renee knew, dead.

"Ouch," Amy muttered, although she was too hung-over to do much else.

Blaine ran to Troy's side, screaming rather dramatically, "You killed him!"

John, who was breathing heavily, shoulders heaving and had veins sticking out of his neck, whipped around, grabbed Renee by the arm, and pulled her back, as she was still standing and staring.

"Let's go," John's voice was the most dangerous tone she'd ever heard.

Renee allowed John to turn her around, and her legs moved automatically – but she was stunned in disbelief. She never thought John would punch Troy, especially not _that _hard. For a split second when John's fist met Troy's face, Renee thought his neck was going to snap, and his head would fly off into a nearby bush.

"What was that?" Renee demanded, panic rising in her voice. She found it hard to keep up with John's quick strides, "Did you kill him? You didn't kill him, right?"

John didn't answer; instead, he grabbed Renee and literally threw her onto his back. She was too mortified to scream, and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, which was wet with perspiration. She leaned around one side of his head, determined for an answer.

"You have to answer me!" She exclaimed, as John broke into a quick run. Though, he didn't make any attempt to do as he was told as he sped through a bush, cleared a bench, and came to the large asphalt landing area – where he ran faster. Several hundred feet was covered in a few seconds, and Renee held on for dear life, despite her rising anger and slight fear that the reason why John wasn't answering her was because Troy was actually dead.

John reached the forest and slowed down, but not to a pace that was considered a normal human speed. As he maneuvered his way through the trees, the temperature grew cooler, making Renee shiver slightly and hold on to him tighter for body heat.

Another minute of running passed, and then John came to an abrupt stop in a clearing by a snaking river. There was a break in the trees and sunlight shone down to the forest floor, and glittered like diamonds off the water's surface. The grass wasn't really that long, and several flowers and mushrooms were growing amongst it. He gently let her down off his back, and Renee circled around to face him, saving her urge to remark on the beautiful location for later.

"We're alone now," Renee said, watching as John lifted up one of his feet to look amusingly at the sole of the shoe. The amount of rubber that had been worn away in minutes was equivalent to the amount that would be worn away by a normal person who had done a year or so of good walking.

John stopped examining his shoe, and straightened to full height, meeting her eyes. Renee glanced down momentarily to John's right hand, which was covered in Troy's blood, then back up to his eyes, which were still angry looking.

"You can answer my question now. Did you kill him?"

"No," John replied, rather calmly, "Broke his jaw. Shattered his nose too I'm guessing, by the amount of blood that was coming from it. He passed out because of the pain. You would have known if I had killed him…" he trailed off, and clenched his hands into fists, "But I was so close. Luckily for him, he didn't put up a fight. If he had…" he trailed off again, "But he deserved it, he had it coming for a long, long time… and last night, my patience finally ran out."

"I'm sorry," Renee interrupted, breaking their eye contact. "I shouldn't have gotten drunk, John, I was stupid to even _think _that it would make things better, especially when there was nothing wrong in the first place. Kelly lied, and I should have sensed it, I was so blind to believe her! It wasn't just Troy, we both know he still likes me, and I basically acted in his favor by drinking that whiskey…"

"Stop it, you don't need to apologize," John's voice softened, and he pulled her close, guiding her head to his chest, "You don't – you did enough of that last night. Troy took advantage of you; there was no way you could have expected that. A friend wouldn't do such a thing; the only thing you should be sorry for is to think you could actually trust him in the first place." John tangled his hands in her soft hair, holding her even closer, "I don't know everything about your relationship with Troy, but I know the Troy we know now is equivalent to the enemy. To think, if I hadn't come there…" he paused to clench and unclench his teeth, and he felt Renee grow tense, "What else he would've done to you. Rented a hotel room, or maybe not have even bothered. Maybe he would've just taken you out back and…"

Renee felt the almost crushing pressure of his hand on the back of her head, and his chest was equally hard, and was momentarily frightened by the force. She ducked out of it, and pulled his face down towards her, pressing her lips against his.

"Calm down," she whispered, "John…" She went to kiss him, but instead of touching his lips, he felt his fingers instead, and her eyes flew open, surprised. He was holding her back ever so gently.

"I'm sorry," John exhaled, gritting his teeth together, "Just the thought of _anyone _else trying to do that to you, anyone else to kiss you… I'll never allow it again. I should have been there; I shouldn't have let you go with them. You're mine, Renee, and only mine." He paused to let his fingers fall from her lips.

"John…" Renee began, but he cut her off.

"Let me get this out," John interrupted, "I think I finally know how to say this. I've been thinking a lot, and I think I've finally figured it out enough that I can put it into words." He paused to exhale deeply.

"Before I met you, I lived to fight, I lived to die. Since I was little, I knew nothing else but guns and violence and how to kill, but when I met you, everything changed. Now that I have you, I feel I have purpose now. I'm not just some emotionless gun-wielding super soldier anymore. You've given me feelings and happiness and pleasure that I never even knew existed, never knew that I could feel. I don't want to die; I have something to fight for now, instead of just to fight to win. I fight for you; I fight to make sure you're safe and that nothing ever, ever happens to you. I've heard this said before, but I believe when I say this it'll have more meaning and context than anyone has ever put into it, it's literal. You mean _everything _to me."

Renee didn't say anything; instead she just looked into his eyes, allowing the sweetness of his surprisingly heart-wrenching words to take effect on her. Never before had someone expressed their love to her in such a way – she thought such confessions only existed in movies, where the almost unrealistic dialogue was written by screen writers who were paid generously to achieve the desirable effect for the movie goers. John's words were unbelievable, and she wondered how long exactly had he been planning this out? Perhaps had he written it feverishly on a napkin in the few moments he was alone, only to practice it and learn it in his rare spare time, as an actor would learn their lines for an audition? However this happened, whether John had this planned out or that his feelings just spilled out into a beautiful array of words, Renee could feel the tears coming to her eyes – not caring about her headache which was beginning to become a background annoyance. It was the most perfect, _and _romantic thing she'd ever heard, and for it to come from John, a _Spartan_, it was unbelievably winning. It would've most certainly won her heart if he hadn't owned it already.

She watched as John's facial features responded uncertainly to her silence. His eyes slightly narrowed, and his mouth, that had been slightly open, closed and his lips pressed into a tight line, his eyebrows crumpling together in a dark border above his now doubtful eyes. Uncertainty flashed through them, as if he suddenly thought his words weren't appropriate, but his features softened as a tear slipped down Renee's cheek. Crying was something that still baffled him. Renee had been sad when she had last cried, but now…

Suddenly Renee wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his face down to hers, and their lips met hungrily, and they seemed to agree mid-fall towards the ground what their intentions were. They kicked off their shoes and fell back onto the grass, tangled up in each other's limbs.

The desire that was controlling the both of them had been bottled up – ever since they had been interrupted on the day John was called to leave the _Hercules_. This time, they were alone, in the middle of a forest. No one would walk in on them; their love could resume.

John lavished her with kisses as he unbuttoned her shirt – this time with careful and steady hands. He didn't want to rip off any buttons this time. The shirt was removed and flung aside, and then he paused to let Renee remove his own shirt. Her hands were shakier, although had no buttons to undo. She pulled the muscle shirt up over his head, threw it aside, and then pressed her hands against his chest, a weak force, but John realized she was wanting to push him down. He met her eyes, a little smirk coming to his lips, and he allowed her to, and he lay back onto the grass, and she crawled over him. She planted kisses along his bare chest, starting low, down near his bellybutton, working her way up. As she did, she slid her small hands along his muscles, his abs, then up over the curve of his arms. She reached his face, and John held his breath and met her eyes, then in a second, had changed positions, he easily rolled over, so he was on top of her now. Not that he didn't enjoy her kisses; it was just that John _hated _to not be the one in control. He had been the leader since he could remember, and he wasn't about to make an exception, even for Renee.

He kissed her passionately, pressing her flat against the ground, holding her hands down. He felt her playfully trying to escape his grasp, but they both knew the efforts were pointless. He released her, only so he could run his hands down her tiny body. Her skin was so soft, and he bent down to kiss her collarbone, nibbling softly as he went. Renee shivered, but calmly let out a sigh, closing her eyes as John trailed kisses up along her neck, her ear, along her jaw line, until finally he came to her mouth, which he kissed with the most ferocity. He brushed a piece of hair away from her face, and allowed her to deepen the kiss, enjoying the taste of it as she slipped her tongue through his lips. She giggled slightly, and John half-laughed, but it came out muffled. Renee broke the kiss, only to linger inches from his face.

"I love you," it was said with hasty assurance.

"I love you," he echoed and kissed her forehead gently, but she hastily pulled his face down so their lips met again hungrily.

John reached down with one hand cleverly, not even breaking the kiss, to remove her pants. He had the button and zipper undone in less than a second, and it seemed he couldn't get the pants off her quick enough. This garment was also tossed aside along with the others. John ran his hands down her legs, which were smooth, and beautiful. He sat back on his knees, met her eyes, then lowered his lips to her inner thigh and began kissing her.

A blush came to Renee's cheeks, but soon her embarrassment was strictly overruled by how good it felt. His lips were so soft, she had never even imagined him to kiss her there. She closed her eyes and her lips parted, and a little moan escaped from her. Instantly, she felt embarrassed, but John didn't seem to think it was a bad idea. He moved to her other thigh, and began lavishing it with the same, tickling, hot kisses. He glanced up, to see Renee, biting her lip, her eyes closed. She wasn't in pain; she was in the complete opposite. He was doing something right.

John moved over her again, kissing her stomach, up between her breasts and back to her neck. He felt his adrenaline pumping through him – but it was a different feeling than he had felt when he had punched Troy in the nose. This was different, this felt, good. He knew what he wanted, it was instinct, and he didn't have to figure it out. Just seeing her lying below him almost naked was enough to make him lose absolute control – control, which was growing less and less every second, slipping through his fingers. He wanted her; he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life. He reached behind her back, and found the clasp of her bra, and it took him a moment of fumbling to figure out how it worked, but he managed to get it undone – and he felt Renee stiffen beneath him, but he looked into her eyes, and could see nothing but trust. She trusted him. He trusted her. They belonged together.

He removed her bra, and only swept his eyes over her chest once, then leaned in and pulled her close to him, kissing her passionately. She let out a little sigh in-between kisses, and John knew why. The feel of their skin touching was almost enough to make him lose it.

Frantically with one hand, he swiftly undid the buckle on his pants, but just as he unbuckled it, he paused, with his lips inches from hers. There were no "gifts" from Amy. The one she had generously given him, he had left it with her, denying it with the exact words, "I doubt I'll need that where I'm going." He glanced up to Renee's eyes, who had taken notice to his pause. He could tell by the look on her face that she was remembering the same thing he was. There were several seconds where neither of them moved, the only sound was the rushing of the water from the river as it poured over the boulders, the rustling of the wind in the high treetops and a chirping bird perched somewhere in the branches.

Renee wrapped her arms around his neck, touching her forehead to his own.

"I love you," she said, her voice small, cracked, "You love me. That's all that matters."

John didn't move, except to blink. After what seemed like hours, he nodded, ever so slightly. They kissed again, tantalizingly running his tongue along her lip before slipping it into her mouth. She melted against him, and raked her hands down his back, as he yanked her underwear down. Instantly, she broke the kiss to bury her face into the crook of John's neck, tightening her grip around him, and clamping her eyes shut, as she felt his hands moving around down around her legs. The jingling of his belt falling to the ground, the rustling of clothes… she wasn't able to contain her eager, shaking breaths, and she bravely wrapped her legs around his waist, helping him out a little. For a moment, neither of them moved, and Renee wondered if John was reconsidering the idea but pushed the idea out of her mind. She loved him; he loved her, just like she said. They trusted each other, loved each other, and she had no doubt that consummating their relationship would be the best decision the both of them would ever make. She heard John sigh. She looked into his eyes, holding his face gently. She leaned in and kissed him with the same amount of care.

"I trust you."

John feared that he would hurt her; it could be so easily done. She was so small compared to him, so fragile. Even if he so much as bruised her, he'd hate himself for certain. She was the most precious thing to him, and he promised himself that he'd be nothing but exceptionally gentle. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for any signs of falseness behind her words, but could find nothing in her eyes that were even close.

Renee kissed him again.

"I trust you, John."


	28. Times Are Changing

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**[April 3****rd****, 2535 ****–**** Reach Military Base - Reach]**

There was something about the little clearing that seemed suddenly serene, that hadn't been that noticeable before. Its tranquility was peaceful – this little place was like Renee and John's own private getaway. It was not even a mile from the main military base, and it was hard to believe that some place so peaceful and distant from the outside world could exist there. Maybe it was just the weather that enhanced the location and made it unique, but Renee doubted it. It was the new feelings that she had so recently experienced, and how she lay leisurely in John's strong arms, his pair of pants draped over them as a makeshift blanket. Not that they really needed the warmth, for they were quite warm already – but it just seemed the right thing to do. John had thrown the pants over them a few minutes ago, but after that neither of them did much more. They were enveloped in their own thoughts, the silence not awkward, but fitting. They gazed up at the blue sky, huddled together so peacefully like there was no war going on at all. It was wonderful.

Renee let out a little sigh, and felt like she was no longer the same person. She felt different, but in nothing but a good way. She loved John, and she had been right, she had trusted him, and the experience that was just a few minutes behind them was a memory that would be savored in both of their minds. It was unlike anything she'd imagined – better by far. John, who excelled at everything else he did, made no exceptions for this kind of field. They both had been new to it, and that was something that they shared and weren't ashamed of, they were at the same level of experience. She could think of thousands of adjectives she could use to describe it. John had understood that she trusted him and was gentle, yet fiercely passionate at the same time. The both of them reached their goals in the desire category and now, much later, they were both beyond content.

For John, his mind was rather blank, he was absolutely baffled. He had no idea what to expect at first. He knew that it was something intimately pleasurable, but he had no idea that it was going to be _that _pleasurable. It had blown his mind, and he had found himself lost in an explosion of feelings so good that he thought they would overwhelm him and he'd just drop dead. And he had thought that the feeling of general love had been controlling. Making love with Renee had been officially, the best experience of his life, topping the charts at number one. It shoved the other experiences – that now seemed so bland and not so exhilarating – such as his first time shooting a rifle, receiving his first medal, and the first time he killed an alien, to the bottom. Now there was a large gap, the other experiences were lower to the bottom, and at the very top was this new experience. The space between could not be breached, it was a superior feeling above all. He and Renee had both committed the ultimate task of loving one another, and John felt proud. Now he completely understood what it was like to love someone, and how wonderful it was. He and Renee were bonded now, there were no boundaries between them anymore. They had crossed the final line and now their relationship could really be considered as official.

John glanced down, and pulled Renee closer to him, ever so gently, running his hands down her bare back, and just that small movement meant so much for the both of them. It was like their emotions and senses were still running on overdrive, that the littlest gesture made them want to begin all over again, to have each other passionately, here alone in the forest.

Something inside of John had changed, John knew that for certain. He had taken a step forward that he guessed none of his other Spartans had. They were afraid to love, or perhaps hadn't gotten the opportunity to. They had no idea what they were missing, how it made them feel when they loved someone exponentially, to a point where they would do anything for them, do anything to protect them, do anything to ensure that not even the littlest thing happened to them – to allow the one special person to rise to become the ultimate importance in their life, their number one focus, above all else. The others were too absorbed in the war, the fighting, and all things unpleasant. They were unaware that there could be something other than the guns, the violence, and the bloodshed – emotions that could come through and provide some help to keep you sane along the way.

John leaned down and kissed Renee's forehead softly, holding her tighter. He didn't want to ever let her go again. He wanted to stay by her side in every battle, in every place – he wanted to ensure that she would be safe every minute of every day. Just like it was his sole duty to fight in this war, it was also his own personal duty to protect Renee at any cost. Now that she was here with him, it was hard to imagine, the repetitive, dull life that had made up the majority of his twenty three years before she had fatefully came into it.

He glanced up to the blue sky, where the sun was almost straight above them – a sign that it was drawing close to midday – when Dr. Halsey had told him Renee had to be back at the base. The _Hercules _would be departing today – and instantly that dampened his mood.

"It's near noon," John spoke for the first time in a while, his voice low and calm, "We'll have to be heading back."

"Yes," Renee answered, her voice also quiet, as if they were both afraid that if they talked loud, this would all become a dream and turn out to not be a reality – and disappear into thin air.

They lay on the grass for a few more moments, until reluctantly they separated to quietly get dressed. Renee fumbled with her clothes as she pulled them on, her fingers shaking. It was hard to believe this had actually happened. It was like it was too good to be true. Even though, as she pulled on the last of her clothes, a small negative fact seemed to be flashing a warning in her brain. They had made love _without_ anything to discourage possible pregnancy. No birth control, no condoms, nothing. Taking a deep breath, Renee hoped that nothing would come of this – for if it did, she knew nothing but bad things would follow. She'd be discharged and sent to Earth, and John would be scrutinized – their whole relationship would be viewed as scandalous (a relationship between a Spartan and a mere Corporal, oh the horror!). The both of them would be shamed and no doubt dealt permanent bad names. They would be the talk of the UNSC – and not to mention the bloodthirsty paparazzi back on Earth, which would give their own lives to get their hands on such material – for years.

Renee ran her fingers through her hair to try and pat it down, but could still feel that it was a little on the messy side, so she turned to John, who was just pulling his shirt over his head. She cleared her throat, and he looked down at her unexpectedly. A nervous smile spread across her lips, and she pointed up to her hair.

"Can you help me?" she started, her voice small.

"Of course," John answered, and with a couple of strokes her hair was smoothed down. He kissed her forehead, "There you go."

She wrapped her arms around him and let her head fall against his chest. He sighed, and looked thoughtfully up at the sky. He only prayed that their actions would not come back to haunt them in the future. The risks of anyone finding out were small, unless …

"Having any regrets?" John asked her.

There wasn't even a pause.

"No," she replied, "No matter what happens, I will _never _regret this. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Agreed," John nodded, but really, he wasn't that sure. If something happened, if she happened to get pregnant with a half-Spartan mutant, could he really not regret it? Dr. Halsey was doing research right now as they spoke – but if it turned to be that the mixing of Spartan and human DNA turned out to be a freakish disaster, and Renee wound up pregnant with such a thing… He knew he would feel nothing but regret for having done that to her.

He closed his eyes, and only hoped that nothing would happen - that this would only be a happy memory for them and that they would get away clean.

* * *

When they returned to the base, the clock on the wall of the main lobby told them it was quarter to twelve. They had made it back with time to spare; a feat that John thought wouldn't be possible. He had walked in hand in hand with Renee figuring that they'd find out that noontime would be a half hour past and there would be a scrambling to try and find the crew of the _Hercules_.

John was not really surprised – or delighted, to see the majority of the crew in the main lobby, perched on the couches and chairs or just standing in small groups. Some of them were wearing civilian clothing, such as jeans and t-shirts, but the majority of them were wearing their plain uniforms. Renee's grip on John's hand tightened as they approached. They were able to pick out Amy, Josh, Blaine and Kirk from the crowd. Amy was leaning back, slouched in one of the big comfortable chairs with one hand over her eyes. Josh was balanced on the left arm of the chair, and Blaine and Kirk had shoved a pile of magazines out of the way to sit rather rudely on a low glass table not far away.

Troy was noticeably absent from the picture, something John had also not been surprised to see.

He and Renee walked over towards them, and instantly Kirk and Blaine shimmied further away down the table, looking intimidated upon John's presence. However, Josh had his arms folded rather confidently on his chest and met John's eyes with a hard glare.

Amy lifted her hand momentarily from her eyes, and saw Renee and John. She managed a small smile.

"Hey guys," she said, clamping her hand back over her eyes, "I'd talk more, but I've got a huge migraine. Just impatiently waiting for some pain killers to kick in…"

"That's understandable," John answered calmly.

Despite what she said, Amy couldn't resist continuing.

"Where did you go for all this time, huh?" she inquired.

"Somewhere to talk," Renee answered, afraid that the others would be able to sense her lying. To quickly change the subject, she decided to try and get the burden off her shoulders, for the others were all glaring at her just as equally as they were John, so she glanced up to Josh's unfriendly eyes, "Where's Troy?"

"In surgery," Josh snapped bitterly, "Getting his jaw wired back together. According to the doctors, his jaw is fractured in three places, five of his teeth are loose, and his bite is totally knocked off – not to mention his nose is fucked up again! His whole side of his face was purple and black before we could even carry him to the medical bay!"

Renee glanced up to John's face, to try and see any signs of sympathy, but he wore that hard expression that wouldn't let any emotions through. She doubted that he regretted punching Troy anyway; even now after learning he was in surgery because of him. She turned her attentions back to the others, trying her best to put on her best poker face too.

"That's why we're all waiting here," Blaine added bitterly, his shoulders slumped exhaustedly, "We can't leave until Troy's outa surgery," he glanced to Kirk, "I hope he's okay."

Kirk didn't look nearly as placid as Blaine. His expression was similar to Josh's, and Renee was surprised when he straightened up and pointed a finger accusingly at John.

"You're in some big fucking trouble, Spartan!" Kirk said loudly, "The doctors wondered what the hell happened, and we told 'em exactly what you did! You might have gotten away with that minor shit in the past, but you won't get away with this! There's pure evidence!" Kirk's outburst caused several other marines in the room to look in their direction. Also, his attitude seemed to strengthen Blaine and Josh's courage as well, for they all shot John with the dirtiest looks possible. John, however, didn't alter his expression at all, it was rather carless looking, but daring at the same time, as if he was wishing that they would try and attack him.

Sensing this tenseness, filling the air with the right ingredients to possibly start a fight, Renee took a step forward, so that John was behind her. Kirk, Blaine and Josh all looked at her curiously, almost amused. She met each one of their stares with one of intensity.

"John was defending me," she snapped, in an icy cold tone, "You three idiots were too damn drunk last night to see what exactly Troy was attempting, weren't you?"

"You and the LT were just making out," Blaine snickered, "You looked pretty willing."

"I was _never _willing," Renee snarled, clenching her hands into fists. She walked right up to Blaine. He glanced around at his friends, and then stood up. Menacingly, Renee leaned in so she was close to his face, and said loud enough so everyone could hear, "I gave Troy a broken nose, if you want one too, just get in line."

Blaine leaned back and laughed, and John instantly saw Renee's anger flare, and shot forward, intervening before a punch to the face could occur. He grabbed a hold of her shoulders, and yanked her back.

"Renee," he hissed. He could feel the tensing of her muscles through her shirt – her right arm ready to swing, "Calm down." Renee didn't look away from Blaine, showing that even with John urging her back, that she wasn't afraid.

"Wait," Amy uncovered her eyes, and she looked to Renee, "You… Troy…?"

"He took advantage of me when I was drunk," Renee turned her head towards her friend. She was still livid and then she looked to the others again, "If you ask me, he deserved that broken jaw. Any man who does that can't call themselves a man. Especially a Lieutenant, of all people! And whoever tries to get John in hot water, I'll tell them the exact same thing. John didn't punch him for nothing."

"Listen girlie, why don't you calm down," Josh told her, "Like your boyfriend said. We're all marines here, so quit trying to pull the tough chick act thinking you could actually kick our asses. It would be the other way 'round, but of course, I'd never hit a girl. Same goes for all of us. Troy might have deserved it if it went the way you said it did, but still, Spartan there made the whole situation worse. A bruise would have been one thing, but a broken jaw?" he shook his head, and chuckled, "The right material for getting kicked out, if you ask me."

"Just because you're a Spartan doesn't mean you're better," Kirk growled, slowly easing himself back down onto the table, "Ranks still apply to you, asshole."

John allowed the words to not bother him. Although these were the most bluntly put insults toward Spartans, John didn't allow them to even raise his anger a bit. He just fixed Kirk with a cold glare – which he knew had an effect on him though Kirk never let it fully show. Satisfied, John smirked, and then held his hand out to Renee, and she took it, intimately intertwining her fingers with his. She didn't care what anyone thought about them at this point.

"See you later, Amy," Renee said to her friend as she and John turned to leave. Amy nodded and gave her a little wave. Then, without another look towards the others, Renee arrogantly turned her back on them, and she and John headed off down the hallway. She couldn't help but smirk, when with she was John, she felt that much powerful it was satisfying. The two of them together could shoot down a whole group of people with words and glares alone. Momentarily she thought back to something Amy had told her a while ago, when she had predicted that Renee and John would be the relatively silent type, who spoke with their minds. Renee, when she had first heard her friend's absurd prediction, denied it, but how ironic it was now. She found herself saying a lot to John, and he to her, through their expressions alone. She was truly beginning to believe that John was the only one for her.

Right now, she knew John's anger, and he knew hers, just by the expressions on each other's faces and the pace in which they walked. Together, their shoes made a rhythm close enough to match the beats of their pounding hearts.

"I hate them," she declared, heaving a great sigh.

"The feeling's mutual," John replied curtly.

"I won't let them try and pin assault on you," Renee fumed, shaking a piece of hair impatiently out of her eyes, "Troy started everything, as he usually does."

"Don't worry about that now," he assured her, "I'll be more than able to handle it. Think about it, it's only logical they'd take my side. Dr. Halsey and Captain Thomsen both were present during Troy's immature impudence the last time, and they know, especially Dr. Halsey - that I wouldn't lash out without a good enough reason. I'm not even going to worry about it though. Now that both you and I have caused harm to Troy, I think he's smart enough to stay away. Even if I do get some repercussions from breaking his jaw, we're basically in the clear now. So just calm down, and wipe all worries from your mind."

"Easier said than done," Renee huffed, rolling her shoulders in a shrug.

"Hey," John said softly, slowing to a stop. She went to keep going, but he grabbed her gently by the arm and turned her to face him. She met his eyes, her expression rather stressed, her cheeks a little red from being agitated. Just as she opened her mouth to question him, he leaned in and kissed her softly – making sure it lasted for a little while. Instantly, John felt her relax, and when he pulled back, he was happy to see now that her cheeks were red, but no longer with anger. Letting his face linger close to hers, he whispered in an authoritative yet seductive voice: "Calm down. That's an order."

Renee took a deep breath, and nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching, threatening to break into a full blown smile. She let out a little chuckle, allowing the smile out as she looked down at her feet, but John quickly nudged her chin up so their eyes met. They shared a long loving gaze, and their faces began to draw closer again for an attempted kiss, but suddenly they were interrupted.

"Excuse me," Renee and John turned to look, slightly startled. It turned out it was the same jittery red haired man who had shown Renee where the Spartan's mess was yesterday. This time, his face matched his hair. John and Renee quickly stepped to one side of the hallway to let him pass. He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep a hold of his composure, and sped on, not looking back.

Renee and John both shared a little laugh at this. If it had been just a couple of weeks ago, they would be fretting because someone other than Amy had seen them engaging in suggestive romantic gestures in public, but now, neither of them could really care who saw them. The carefree attitude made both of them giddy, and they felt like they could do anything together.

"Do we really embarrass people that much?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," John shrugged, "Who cares what they think."

Well, that wasn't really arguable.

* * *

They walked back to the Spartan's mess, and when they walked in, it was somewhat of a relief to find the room empty. John guessed that his fellow Spartans were out in the training fields again or perhaps even having lunch in the cafeteria. For what he was planning to do, it would be best if there were no witnesses but Renee. He had made the decision somewhere between last night and now, and he was going to stick with it.

To Renee it looked like the room had been vacant all along. The beds were neatly made, with not even a wrinkle in the sheets. Someone had even made John's bed. It looked like a bunch of housekeepers were living in the room instead of a bunch of super soldiers. Renee guessed that John had the same impressive bed making skills as well. After all, there wasn't anything she'd seen John do that he hadn't been good at. At the thought of it, she blushed slightly.

"It's really spick and span," Renee remarked softly as she and John crossed the room, their footsteps clicking rather loudly on the floor, "Your Spartans are impressive. I can't remember the last time I made my bed."

"It's from habit," John answered, smirking, "When you were expected to make your bed under pressure of a stun baton, it comes as a kind of instinct."

"They used stun batons on you?" Renee almost looked appalled, but John found her expression cute. In this case, she was innocent. She had military training easy compared to him.

"When we were kids, yes," John nodded, "But at that time we were fresh into military life, and they were still unsure if they could trust us to not try and run away. They also used them to wake us up for the first while as well."

"Well, I'm glad I wasn't a Spartan, then," Renee grinned sheepishly, "Not sure that I could handle that sort of wake up call. An alarm clock is annoying enough for me."

She watched as John bent down and reached under his bed, and pulled out the same camo green knapsack that he had left the _Hercules _with. He tossed it onto the bed, slightly messing the perfect, wrinkle free sheets, and quickly did a survey of the contents to make sure everything was there. His dress uniform, his uniform and other clothing, and his bag of toiletries completed his belongings. Satisfied there was nothing missing, John then pulled the strings to close the knapsack, and slung it over his shoulder. Meeting Renee's eyes as he turned towards her, he said:

"I'm ready, let's go."

It took Renee a moment for her brain to actually register what was going on. When it clicked, she was instantly shocked.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, although she figured she already knew the answer to her question, "What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you," he said, "On the _Hercules_."

"You're allowed!" Her face broke into a smile. She couldn't help but clap childishly.

"I don't know yet," John answered truthfully as he headed towards the door, "But I'll be sure to tell whoever questions my actions the honest reason why I am. I don't think anyone will interfere."

"Oh, John!" Renee ran after him, and grabbed his hand with both of hers excitedly, "That would make everything so perfect." She stood on her tip toes, and John quickly dipped down to kiss her lightly on the lips. Seeing her happy made him happy too.

"I love you," he told her, the three words came so freely from his mouth now, they were becoming a habit. He said this more than he gave orders.

"Love you too," she beamed, and the two of them left the room together. Renee felt a new happiness – just when she thought she couldn't be happier, John tells her this. If she would be able to be by his side for another while, instead of just a day, it would make things so much better. She only hoped that John would be allowed to leave.

* * *

When they arrived back at the lobby, John left his knapsack with Renee, and went to go get into his MJOLNIR armor. Renee faithfully stayed behind to take an opportunity to watch his things and talk to Amy, who had seemed to have gotten a little better, even in the short time they had been gone. Renee guessed that the pills she had taken must have been starting to kick in.

Ignoring Josh, Kirk and Blaine, Renee perched herself on the arm of the chair beside Amy, who looked bright eyed and bushy tailed as she could be at this point. The redhead glanced down to John's things on the floor and back up to Renee.

"What's this all about?" she inquired, "Is John coming back?"

"Yes," Renee smiled giddily, "As far as I know."

"Well, that's good. At least you'll be happy, although I think John has ruined your friendship with Troy."

"No,_ Troy_ ruined his friendship with me," Renee corrected her friend quickly, frowning. At the mention of his name, she glanced back over her shoulder at Josh, Kirk, and Blaine, who hadn't turned to look at them since she'd arrived, but she guessed that they were listening, for they had stopped talking. Renee sighed, and turned back to Amy's curious face.

"What exactly happened anyway?" Amy asked, "I was drunk at the bar – it was helluva night, fun for the most part, but then when I passed out, then was dragged home by the boys, not so good. I don't think I have ever thrown up so many times in one night."

"And you said you can handle your drinks," Renee rolled her eyes with a grin.

"But what happened?" Amy pushed impatiently.

"It all started with Kelly, who lied and said that John didn't want to see me anymore," Renee told her, "It was really stupid, now that I look back on it. I guess I was too foolish to think that she had been lying to me."

"I knew from the start that one was up to something!"

"Yes, yes, and then I came along with you guys, and got drunk, because I was so upset. That was the second mistake I'd made, and now I realize the worst. I don't know what I was thinking, but I danced with Troy, don't you remember that?"

"Nope," Amy shook her head, holding up her hands, "Look, I hardly remember a thing. You're lucky I can tell you what I had to drink last night, alright?"

"What did you have to drink?" Renee tested, smirking at her friend.

"Oh, fuck off," Amy sighed, "Whiskey and soda. Go on with your tale."

"Fine," she chuckled, "Troy tried to take advantage of me while I was drunk, the slimy bastard kissed me, but thanks to John's good timing, he came and got me out of there. I got sick though and passed out. From what I can piece together, John must have carried me back here. This morning, though, this is where the trouble started. John told me that he wanted to take me somewhere more private to talk, and we headed outside, and then we ran into you guys, and well you were there – Troy got up in John's face, and I guess he just finally snapped."

"I vaguely remember John hitting Troy," Amy grinned, "He's got a mean punch."  
"No kidding! He said afterwards that he didn't even hit him as hard as he could. If he had, Troy would be in surgery right now with a detached head."

Amy burst out laughing at that one.

"Oh, why didn't he knock his block off?" Amy cried, "Why oh why? I would have loved to see that! Troy was alright for the past few days, but I admit, he was awfully annoying at times. He always has been that type that kind of irks you, and now that he tried that shit on you, oh I'd pay a handsome price to see John or any one of the Spartans send his head flying!"

Renee shook her head, trying to keep laughing herself. It took Amy a minute or two to fully get over her laughing fit and iron out all the humor from her system. Shaking her head, she declared, "Well, that made my day. Thanks, RenRen."

"Please don't call me that," Renee muttered softly.

"Oh, alright," Amy gave her a weird look, "So are you saying I need to find you a new nickname?"

"Not necessarily," Renee shrugged, "It's just that that one reminds me too much of Troy."

"Alright, understood," Amy nodded, "But yeah, John and I will have a little meeting, we'll come up with another nickname for you, don't worry! It'll be more creative than RenRen."

Renee smirked.

"Thanks Amy."

"By the way, why did John want to take you to a private place to talk?" Amy instantly switched over to interrogation mode, "What'd you two talk about? Must have been important, because I don't know if this is new but I can see such a vibe coming off you two, you're like a 'thing' nowadays. If we were still in high school, you'd be the perfect couple and envy of all the nerds and single people in the school. What happened?"

Renee smiled and shook her head, feeling a blush threatening to come on her cheeks.

"You have to tell me, I'm you're bestie!" Amy pushed on, "Come on."

"You'll have to guess," Renee said in a small voice, biting her lip, "Because I'm not saying."

She glanced up to her friend's face just in time to see her expression alter. Her eyes grew wide as saucers, and her mouth fell open.

"You didn't!" she exclaimed, "You…" she lowered her voice, "You guys…"

Renee nodded, a small smile fighting its way to her lips.

"Oh my god!" Amy looked like she was going to go into cardiac arrest, "Finally, after all this time, I'm so proud of you two! How was it?"

"Amy…"

"Tell me! Was he pro? I bet he was pro," Amy grinned, she seemed to be on the verge of going nuts, "Gimme every freakin' detail, come on. I deserve to know."

"Let's just say he was as good as he is at everything else, okay?"

Amy let out a loud shriek and slapped her knee, bending over and laughing hysterically. This time, she succeeded in getting the attention of everyone in the room. Even the girl at the reception desk looked up from her computer and peered over the counter at her.

"Crazy," Josh muttered, and he, Kirk and Blaine went back to their conversation.

When Amy lifted her head up to face Renee again, her face was red and she had tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. She took Renee's hand in her own.

"I am officially proud of you! Proud, but jealous as _shit_! I gotta find myself a Spartan, that's it!" she announced, "Aren't they all here? I'm going window shopping for Spartans. James was sexy, but damn, I bet all the guys are."

"Calm down!" It was Renee's turn to laugh this time, "I haven't seen them, only when they were all asleep."

"Show me the room," Amy stood up.

"They weren't there when John and I just went," Renee pulled her friend back down, "And calm down. Wayne wouldn't like you talking like this."

"Oh, forget Wayne!" Amy waved her hand, "The guy doesn't even have abs!"

Renee shook her head, and glanced around the room, and saw that still a lot of people were looking at them out of the corners of their eyes or sneaking quick peeks over their shoulders, but she didn't really care. Normally she would be embarrassed, but this time she wasn't.

"Congratulations," Amy held her arms out to Renee, "Give me a fucking hug, you lucky bitch."

Renee laughed and did as she was told, and was glad that Amy had come out of the mood she had been in the previous couple of days. It felt like things were all going back to normal again, except for this time, John would be with her.

That's when she glanced up from hugging Amy, to see John come walking towards them. As soon as she saw he wasn't wearing her armor, her stomach flopped sickeningly, and knew something was up. She and Amy turned to face him, but Renee got to her feet and met him halfway there.

"What's going on?" she asked, feeling her excitement dying away.

John's face was frustrated, almost angry looking.

"I can't go with you," he said, "I ran into Dr. Halsey. She learned of what happened with Troy and told me that I can't leave Reach until this situation has been properly dealt with. Troy's out of surgery, and he's just written his speech against me, for he can't talk at the moment. I'm being court martialed."

"What?" Renee cried in horror, "Well then I have to stay behind! Amy and I both can. We're witnesses! We can defend you."

"I don't need your help," John shook his head, "I can take care of myself. Remember what I told you? I have the most valuable witness on my side, Dr. Halsey. She knows me, and she'll be all the help I need. Don't worry about me, alright? Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise."

"John…" she began stubbornly, but he put a finger to her lips.

"I promise," he said, "When I make a promise, I keep it. Now, Troy's being released and the _Hercules _will be ready to leave within the next hour, and I want you to go and I don't want any complaints. Not one, do you understand me?"  
"But…"

"Do you understand?" John's expression hardened.

"Yes…" Renee felt her heart sink.

"I will see you again, and I promise that too," John told her, "Now can I get you to make me a promise?"

Renee nodded numbly.

"Promise you'll be strong," he told her, "Be safe, kick ass," he smiled, "Can you do that for me?"

"I can," Renee forced herself to smile.

"I love you," John leaned in and kissed her, in front of everyone. From behind, Renee heard Amy clap softly for them.

"I love you too," she replied, and was surprised on how loud her voice came out. She was fueled by her promise and determination to live up to John's words. He pulled her into a hug, and they stood there in silence for a few minutes, and she savored the moment.

This time though, was different than the last. She felt no tears coming to her eyes, and the sadness was only little. Determination was the dominant emotion, and she knew now that she made the promise to John that she wouldn't sulk, not even for one moment. She'd be powered by the thoughts of when she'd see him again, and it would be sooner than she knew.


	29. Effects Of Our Actions

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**[April 3****rd****, 2535 – Reach Military Base – Reach]**

Renee reluctantly let her arms fall from being wrapped around John's body and she took a step backward, looking up into his eyes, which now were allowing no emotion through – closed off even to her. He glanced past her, to Amy, and then the others who were sneaking glares at him out of the corners of their eyes. They had quite the nerve, but all of a sudden Renee didn't feel so angry at them, she felt rather carefree, as if she could do anything and not care what anyone else would say or do. With a glance back to John, she could tell he was relatively calm as well.

She took this moment to take a mental snapshot of John as he was right then – so serious, yet irrevocably alluring and overall handsome. His short brown hair – which had grown a little compared to when she had first met him, was still a little on the tousled side, it stood up slightly on the crown of his head. His brown eyes were dark as chocolate, his smooth lips were pursed ever so carefully so they neither curved up or down – something he cleverly mastered, so it resembled neither a smile or a frown. His muscles of his broad chest were visible underneath the thin cotton of his shirt, and he looked almost as if he flexed the wrong way he would burst out of it. His straight, strong nose momentarily twitched, breaking his stone-like expression for only a second, and then, his eyes flickered to her.

"I have to be going," he said lowly.

"Yes, of course," Renee nodded, and the smile that came on her lips didn't have to be forced, "I'll see you soon."

He smiled ever so slightly, but said nothing, and turned. In several quick strides he was gone down the hallway in a blur. Renee sighed, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Was it just the situation, or did it all of a sudden feel like she was even more in love with him?

Of course; it was becoming ever so clear that since they'd made love, they had become inevitably closer to one another – it truly had brought them together, in more ways than one. She sighed, and hoped that John would be alright when it came time to be ridiculed by the bases' makeshift court. The fact that Troy had actually_ written _a piece describing what John had done to him made her feel slightly weak. Knowing Troy, he would exaggerate things, perhaps even a minor detail and make it of more severe importance. Whatever he'd done, Renee knew that it wasn't going to be easy for John – and this made her want to go and be a valid witness and defend John as viciously as a professional lawyer would and put Troy in his place. _That _is what was surprising, she figured after he had his nose broken by her, and his jaw practically shattered by John, that'd he'd learn a lesson and let it go – and just accept the fact that his attitude, whether his arrogance-fueled attempts at wooing Renee, or his rude insults and teasing towards John, weren't working in his favor – and that trying the immature route by ratting John out wouldn't get him anywhere. Hopefully it wouldn't, anyway.

"That was something I _didn__'__t_ need to see," Blaine scoffed, loud enough to make sure Renee heard it. Kirk made a low noise that sounded like someone suppressing a mouthful of vomit.

"Sick," he remarked weakly, "That'd be the day I'd even associate with one of them Spartans, let alone practically make out with one. The Spartan chicks look like guys, anyway."  
"They're totally beefed up," Blaine shuddered, "Nasty."

Renee glanced over at them, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, but other than that paid them no attention. She wasn't about to let them get to her again, although she wasn't so sure what John's reaction would have been if he was there. He was highly defensive of his fellow Spartans. Instead, she glanced down to Amy, who was uncontrollably smiling at her.

"I think it was unbelievably romantic," Amy offered her own opinion, "You two are definitely more intimate now, and hey, you're not crying!"

"No," Renee said, her voice wavering with disbelief, "I guess I'm not."

"You don't feel sad?"

"Of course I will miss him," she replied honestly, "But I've made the promise to him to be happy – didn't you hear anything we just said?"

"Not really," Amy answered, "He was talking awfully low, and I was just waiting for you to kiss, that's all."

"Oh, Amy," Renee sighed, running her hands through her hair, "But yes, I am going to be happy, I'll allow myself to be powered with the thoughts of when I'll see him next. D' you think it'll be soon?"

"You never know," Amy answered with a shrug, "Hopefully, because I need to talk to him, you know, interview him per say, to ask him about how _it _went."

"He'd never tell you a thing! And what more do you want to know? You're a freak. Go buy Playgirl and shove your nose in that, instead of pestering me about my escapade with John."

"Playgirl doesn't have Spartans!" Amy looked at her like she was stupid, "I told you once, but I'm telling you again, I'm totally envious of you – and that's what you call it hmm? Escapade? Oh you're a dirty little girl."

"Why don't you go track down James?" Renee mused, ignoring Amy's comments.

"I would, but we're leaving soon," Amy scoffed with a pout, "And poor John, I hope they're not too hard on him."

"So you _were_ listening," Renee cocked an eyebrow.

"I heard that part and the part about Troy not being able to talk! Imagine, we'll be saved!" Amy laughed, "The idiot."

"Do you think John will be alright?"

"Of course!" Amy answered, "He's a big boy, he can handle himself. If he can take care of a bunch of aliens, surely he can handle a court martial. Troy'll never win."

"Let's hope so," Renee bit her lip.

"While we're waiting for stupid Troy to join us, tell me more about your little adventure in the woods," Amy grinned, propping her head up on her hand, and looking intently at her friend.

"I told you already I'm…"

"Where'd John get the condom?" Amy interrupted all of a sudden, "He didn't take mine. Did you take it with you?"

Renee felt the color leaving her face, and all of a sudden she found it very hard to keep her face composed.

"If you want to talk about this," she declared lowly, her voice quavering, "At least let's go somewhere out of hearing range of the three musketeers over there." She gestured slightly with her head towards Josh, Blaine and Kirk, who were no doubt straining to hear at least a word or two from their discussion.

"Alrighty," Amy was easily contented, and she held her hand out to Renee, "Just help me up. I'm not sure if I can walk a perfectly straight line yet."

Renee let out a little sigh and helped Amy from the chair, and she led the way across the lobby, by one of the windows, and ducked slightly behind a large tropical plant with leaves nearly as big as her head. Amy was able to follow without problems, although she took careful steps like a kitten that was just getting used to having its feet beneath it. When she arrived, Renee beckoned her further behind the plant, and Amy let out a desperate sigh, but followed.

"You think I was asking you about something confidential," she muttered, leaning up against the wall for some support. Her green eyes went up to Renee's unusually pale face impatiently.

"It _is_ confidential!" Renee hissed, feeling her mouth go dry.

"Fine, however you want to classify it," Amy shook her head, "Now, where'd John get the condom? Did you take it, or what?"

Renee opened her mouth, but closed it again, realizing her voice was being quite cowardly. Instead she just shook her head.

"Then where'd you guys get it from?" Amy was truly puzzled, "Make a stop at a convenience store when John took you back here last night?"

"We didn't use one," Renee croaked, and felt a little light headed. Her eyes instantly dropped to the floor.

"What?" Amy shrieked, startling Renee a little, "Are you completely_ stupid_!"

"No," Renee shook her head, and her eyes swept back up to meet her friend's, her expression pleading, "Amy, surely you know what it's like, how you feel… we both just didn't care… I…"

"You'll be discharged if you wind up…" Amy lowered her voice to a whisper, "Pregnant."

"I know, I know!" Renee said, putting her hands to her face for a moment. A second passed, and she threw her hands down to expose a generally determined expression, "I won't though!"

"Oh, so you're going to defy nature, are you?" Amy put her hands on her hips.

"I doubt anything will happen!" Renee snapped, running her fingers through her hair, "He's a Spartans, his genes are all weird or something…"

"Oh yeah, but it doesn't matter, the whole process won't stop because he's a Spartan," Amy sighed desperately, "I don't believe this, John _was_ concerned; he came to me because he didn't want to get you pregnant, and all of a sudden you're trying to tell me he was like 'Well shit I'm gonna have sex anyway?'"

"He didn't say that, no!"

"He didn't object at all?" Amy pressed on, "He just had sex with you? Is that what you're trying to tell me? No offense, but that seems like a behavior better suited to Troy than John."

Renee looked utterly distressed.

"Well… he did pause… for a moment, only," she admitted.

"And, what happened?" Amy asked, looking annoyed.

Renee threw herself back against the wall, and ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"I urged him on," she muttered, "God, I'm stupid, I didn't really think…"

"Well obviously you didn't think!" Amy cried, "You're only nineteen, and I doubt that either you or John want a little baby on your hands, especially in the middle of a war! That's no world for a kid to be born into."

"I know that."

"Well, you'd better hope that you don't wind up pregnant." Amy declared, and that was the end of the conversation, for she turned and headed back across the lobby, not bothering to wait. Renee sighed, ran her fingers through her hair, and stepped out from behind the plant. She froze in midway across the lobby, when she saw Josh, Kirk and Blaine running to meet someone in a wheelchair who was being wheeled into the lobby. She realized that someone was Troy. Amy, who seemed to realize it at the same time, turned around and gave Renee a shrug, and followed the flock of people towards Troy. He was her Lieutenant, so it was only logical to check on him and see how he was doing.

As everyone else seemed to crowd around Troy, who – even from this distance seemed to have a very swollen and reddened face – Renee sat down on one of the chairs and held her head in her hands, her brain whizzing. That's when she saw something out of the corner of her eye, and she looked up to see that John's bags of things were still lying where he had put them. Good, she could return them to him, and it would be a good chance to avoid Troy altogether. She snatched the bag up and hurried off down the hallway she'd seen John go down.

* * *

John walked down the hallway, alongside Dr. Halsey. She was silent, and he was too, although both of their brains were equally swirling with thoughts that could have been easily put into words. Her heels and his shoes clicked on the floor as they approached the meeting room, a designated place of high-standing, where behind the mahogany wood doors, men and women of the Top Brass were waiting to see John. No doubt they were bloodthirsty so to speak, probably when they received news that a Spartan had actually gotten out of line, they danced for joy that an opportunity to ridicule one of them had arose.

He wasn't really worried, nor should he be. John was relatively calm, his heart was beating at a steady pace and not even close to pounding – in fact he felt relaxed. The majority of him was anyway. His brain though, was whizzing with thoughts. He knew that as soon as he walked through those doors, he would be in a place where there wouldn't be much help – except Dr. Halsey. Troy, whatever he'd written, had managed to get him into enough trouble that it would involve the Top Brass – and he couldn't help but feel that this was keeping him from Renee. If he hadn't gotten into any trouble, would he be out in the lobby with his armor and his belongings, ready to accompany her back onboard the _Hercules_?

His belongings – that's when he realized he had left them back in the lobby, and thought of going back and getting them, but figured he would just go back and get them after this whole hellish ordeal was over. That's when his head snapped up at the sound of running footsteps behind him, and then a familiar voice called out his name:

"John!" It echoed down the hallway towards him, and both he and Dr. Halsey turned around at the same time to see Renee running down the hallway towards them. She was holding the bag of his things, her face flushed from the quick sprint. She slowed, and stopped in front of John, holding out his bag towards him, breathing heavily.

"You forgot this," she said, out of breath.

John reached out and took the bag from her, and smiled slightly.

"I actually just remembered it, it was if you were right on cue," he replied.

Renee nodded, and then there was an awkward silence between them as they just looked into each other's eyes. Dr. Halsey looked at the both of them and shook her head ever so slightly, a little smile coming out on her lips.

Renee glanced towards Dr. Halsey, and gave her a little salute – almost forgetting.

"Doctor," she said politely.

"Corporal," Dr. Halsey nodded.

"Well, sorry to bother you," Renee looked from Dr. Halsey to John, "I should be going now." There was a pause, as she took a hesitant step forward. John dropped his bag of things on the floor, and they enveloped into a tight hug, not worried about Dr. Halsey being there – she didn't mind anyway. Their lips met in a passionate, yet restricted kiss, and John was careful to not make it too heavy, for he was sure Dr. Halsey didn't mind, but there obviously was a limit in which she'd like to be witness to. The kiss lasted for a few seconds, and John had to break it.

"This is our second goodbye today," Renee said quietly, smiling slightly, "I'll miss you so much."  
"And I you," John answered, "But remember what I told you. I'll see you soon, I promise, and when I make a promise…" he trailed off.

"You keep it?" Renee finished uncertainly.

"Right," John kissed her forehead, "Now you'd better get going. You don't want to miss your ship."

Renee raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Oh but I do," she replied, laughing slightly. John shook his head, and stepped back from the embrace he'd been holding her in. Glancing towards Dr. Halsey, who was watching without shame, John decided to put _some_ proper military training into effect. He looked to Renee, straightened and saluted, and she quickly saluted back.

"Corporal Kilburn," he said in his most authoritative voice.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117," Renee barked back, although a smirk was clearly on her face.

Watching this, Dr. Halsey chuckled, and was happy to see John so happy himself. She hadn't actually seen him interacting with Renee before, and she noted that the both of them were very intimate, yet as playful as childhood friends – as if they'd known each other forever. Now she could understand a little as to what John was actually involved in, and it was nothing but good. She frowned slightly, and only hoped that nothing would happen to either of them, but that thought only occupied her mind for a moment, and she shoved it to the back of her mind.

She watched as John and Renee said their final goodbyes and Renee walked off down the hallway. She glanced to John, and was surprised at the determined expression of longing so visible on his face. He looked like every muscle in his body was poised to run after her – but this free spirited expression only existed for a moment, before he shut it off to the outside world. His face took on that similar expression of no real emotion that she had seen on him so many times before.

John turned to Dr. Halsey.

"My apologies, ma'am," he said, clearing his throat as he bent to pick his knapsack up off the floor, "I know it was a little out of protocol…"

"Oh John, I don't mind at all," Dr. Halsey told him truthfully, "I'm glad that you both are happy. I'm not worried about protocol, although these men behind those doors are," she gestured with her thumb, "If we're late, they'll be even more miserable. Let's get this over with."  
"Do you think I will be successful?" John questioned, "Even with that written letter Troy has pitted against me? He lied last time, to you and Captain Thomsen. I don't think he's going to mind twisting the details for the Top Brass, either."

"You have nothing to worry about," Dr. Halsey's face hardened, "They know better than to try and do anything to any one of my Spartans, especially you. You and your Spartans are the ones who are the main strength in this war. They won't try to discharge you. Prepare to be bombarded with questions, John. Lots of questions, some may not be the nicest, but I assure you, your actions will not be held against you for long." She looked to the doors, and then back up to him, "Ready?"

"I'm _always _ready," John narrowed his eyes, and Dr. Halsey saw a different John now than the one that had just been kissing Renee right in front of her. This was the John that existed on the field, existed to destroy the Covenant, defend the human race, and in this case, defend himself against verbal abuse from the Top Brass.

With that, he shoved open the door, and walked into the room, Dr. Halsey tagging along behind him. The room was different from the rest of the rooms in the military base, it had distinctive wooden paneling on the walls, leather chairs, and a large wooden desk in which the poker faced members of the Top Brass sat. The floor was carpeted – a dull gray, a couple of potted plants were here and there, a large flag of the UNSC hung behind the desk, and the windows were covered by blinds. Bright lights from the ceiling illuminated the room.

John wasn't fazed for a moment by the intimidating looks he received from the men and women at the desk as they peered at him. He strode up to the desk, struck a salute, his posture stick-straight.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 reporting!" he barked, his voice clearly echoing throughout the room. Behind him, Dr. Halsey rigidly shrunk into one of the chairs behind a rather plain desk set off to the right.

"Master Chief," the man sitting at the center table answered him, an amused half-grin on his face. His features were sharp and his black eyes looked very unforgiving, "I take it you know very well why you are here."

"Yes, sir," John answered almost instantly.

The sharp faced man, whose nametag on his uniform John was able to read even from this distance – General Watts, momentarily exchanged a glance with a white haired man sitting next to him, then glared back to the Spartan. He looked very eager to get past these formalities and start some intense lecturing.

"Lieutenant Troy Fisher," he began, accepting a paper from the man on his other side, "Has written a very detailed letter describing the 'event' let's call it, that went on between you and him earlier today." John guessed the paper he was holding was the exact letter, and was proved right when he picked up a pair of glasses and put them on, "Let me see," he skimmed the letter, "Here we go, _'__Earlier today, when I was returning to the military base with my fellow soldiers, Sergeant Hamlin, Corporal Ronstadt, Corporal Kilmer and Corporal Smythe, I ran into Master Chief John-117 and Corporal Kilburn. I greeted them with the utmost friendliness and propriety __–__ speaking first to 117, who seemed to be rather uncomfortable and bothered with my presence. Figuring the Spartan wasn__'__t in a very fine mood, I moved on to talk to my fellow soldier and longtime friend Corporal Kilburn. I don__'__t know what on earth provoked the Spartan to lash out, but as you know I wound up being rushed to surgery with a broken jaw and a displaced nose, and currently I am unable to talk. Now there's the issue of figuring out whatever caused 117 to snap __–__ there could be possibly many reasons, but I__'__ve narrowed it down to two. Corporal Kilburn, as I__'__ve already mentioned has been a very good friend of mine since childhood, recently befriended 117. I think his punching me might be propelled by jealousy, and, I firmly believe, after already being assaulted once by him onboard the _Hercules_–__ where he threatened me and threw me to the floor __–__ that this Spartan, or any others for that matter, are stable enough to interact casually with us Marines. Don__'__t think so? Let__'__s examine the evidence. These super soldiers have been trained since childhood to kill, and Miss Catherine Halsey had them surgically augmented to make them perpetually stronger than the average human. I don__'__t know all the details, for the Spartan program is relatively secret, but based on the little information I__'__ve been able to gather __–__ it__'__s quite apparent that these __"__super soldiers__"__ don__'__t know when they are crossing the line. John-117 in particular, seems generally unaware, or just likes to ignore, the rules of following orders and respecting a higher ranking officer __–__ a Lieutenant, of all things. Not to mention that he__'__s shown rather aggressive and threatening behavior, and I__'__m concerned, not only for myself, but for my fellow Marines __–__ especially Corporal Kilburn, who has spent a great deal of time with him. All she has to do is step out of line and she__'__d be the next one he__'__s threatening and shoving onto the floor, or breaking their bones! Take my words into great consideration, for I believe this should not go unseen and this matter ignored. _

_Sincerely, Lieutenant Troy Fisher._" General Watts looked up from the paper right into John's eyes, "So, tell me, what makes you think you can go around punching people and breaking their jaws for no reason, Master Chief?"

"Nothing, sir," John replied, "But I had a reason, sir."

"Oh did you?" Watts looked amused, and the rest of the people sitting with him carried similar expressions, "What reason might that be now?"

"Lieutenant Fisher was posing a threat, sir," John answered, his facial expression darkening, "You have only heard one half of the story, sir, and trust me; my side is much more liable than his."  
"I'm not finished; I'll hear _your _story when I tell you I want to hear it!" snapped Watts, "I don't care what started it, I want to drill it into your head that it doesn't matter who started what, you aren't allowed to go breaking people's jaws!"

The rest of the Top Brass muttered agreements.

"You are a goddamned Spartan," Watts was looking really angry now, "With the rank of a Master Chief Petty Officer, a rank that I can easily strip you of. You are to obey higher ranking officers, whether it is me or Lieutenant Fisher, without question!"

"Yes, sir," John replied, feeling his anger spike, but he didn't let it show.

"And you are to respect the said higher ranking officers, Spartan," snarled Watts.

"Yes, sir."  
"Yes, sir?" Watts mocked him, "You say 'Yes, sir', but when did you forget this? Before you even touched Lieutenant Fisher, before you even pulled your fist back, you should have thought! Used your brain! You Spartans are supposed to be intelligent, so act like it."

"General Watts, sir," John clenched his hands into fists, "If you allow me to reason, I don't go punching anyone, I don't hurt anyone, I don't threaten anyone without a good reason. When we first went into training, we were told one main rule. Annihilate any threats, no questions asked. If we are to feel threatened, or that any one close to us is threatened, we are to disable the threat, in whatever way we see fit."

"Alright, 117, how were you supposedly threatened?" Watts looked skeptical.

"Like anyone can threaten one of them," muttered the man close to him, "They are meant to be super soldiers, not a bunch of babies."

"It wasn't I who was threatened," John answered, "I was merely defending Corporal Kilburn."

"From her childhood friend?" Watts questioned, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, sir," John snapped through clenched teeth, "Lieutenant Fisher, as of last night, took advantage of Corporal Kilburn, in one of the bars in town. While she was drunk, he sexually assaulted her, and I was there to witness it."

"Sexual assault?" Watts asked, and he laughed, "You're a Spartan. What do you know about sexual assault? Was he holding her hand, 117? Was that the sexual assault? You know about fighting, and that's it. Fisher and Kilburn are friends, while you probably were thinking he was hurting her, the both of them were probably willing."

"No," John's eyes were ice cold, "With all due respect, General, I don't just know about fighting. I know about love."

"Do you?" Watts looked shockingly amused, "Memories of your mother giving you a bath, or what?"  
"No," John snarled, "How I know Corporal Kilburn was being sexually assaulted by Lieutenant Fisher was because she is with _me._"

"You're saying that you and Corporal Kilburn are romantically involved? In a relationship?" Watts questioned.

John's expression never faltered.

"Yes, sir."

"Can anyone prove this?" Watts answered, and he suddenly glanced past John. John turned around to see Dr. Halsey calmly raising her hand in the air.

"I can, General," she replied smoothly, "And who would know it any better than I? When John was still confused about his feelings, I was the first one to know about them, before Corporal Kilburn even was aware. And, I was witness to an event similar to this onboard the _Hercules_, when Lieutenant Fisher came running to Captain Blake Thomsen and I about John having shoved him to the floor and threatened him. He warped the actual truth, and I have no doubt that the letter of his is carefully twisted to lean in his favor instead of John's."

"Is that so?" Watts mused, and then he looked around to the men and women he was sitting with, and then they all started discussing it. Unconcerned voices mixed with angry ones, and John glanced back over his shoulder to Dr. Halsey. She gave him a weak smile, not looking very worried. After about a minute or so of talking with one another, the chatter died, and General Watts cleared his throat.

"Some of us, myself included, would love nothing more than to bury you waist-deep in trouble, Spartan," he spat, "But the majority of us have agreed that this seems like a very, very immature situation, when you look at the original causes. Hell, it's something that belongs in a school for a principal to deal with – a couple of high-strung boys who are jealous of a girl and each want her for themselves. This is a waste of my time," he folded his hands on the desk, "Well, Spartan, I'm only letting you off because I'm tired and need a damn good cup of coffee. If you ever so much as lay a finger on anyone again in a harmful way, I'll have you stripped of your rank and isolated from the Marines and this so called girlfriend of yours, and that's a promise."

"Sir, yes, sir!" John saluted again.

"Get out of my sight," Watts waved towards the door.

John and Dr. Halsey couldn't have been happier to leave. When the door closed behind them, John let out a sigh and shook his head.

"Glad that's over," he muttered.

"Indeed," Dr. Halsey folded her arms on her chest, "Though it went just as I expected. I hope their words weren't so bothersome to you, John."

"Nothing I can't take," John shrugged it off, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder, and he looked off down the hallway, "Now what, ma'am?"

Dr. Halsey looked up to his determined face.

"Go," she told him, and he looked down at her curiously.

"Ma'am?"

"Go with Renee," she waved off down the hallway, "You have my permission. You won't get in any trouble. Go on."

John stared at her in disbelief, but he felt a surge of energy fly through him. He nodded, a smile breaking out on his lips, and then he tore off down the hallway, hoping he wasn't too late. He found his way to the armory, where he urged the technicians to assemble his MJOLNIR armor on him double time. They fumbled with the heavy pieces, but managed to get it done in record time, and none of them questioned his hurry. He thanked them, and then was gone, down the hallway once again, towards the lobby. He couldn't contain his excitement as he approached, and shouted her name as loud as he could, but when he reached the lobby, he found it empty. Only the girl at the reception desk was there, typing away on her computer.

Frantically, John tore out the front doors, down the steps, through the bushes, and out onto the air strip, his feet taking him as fast as he could go – to others he would look like a shining green blur, but something made him stop dead in his tracks in the middle of the tarmac.

His head shot up to see the giant Halcyon cruiser looming above him, and on the hull it read _Hercules_. It drifted lazily a hundred feet off the ground, rising higher, to a point where it blocked out the sun. John cursed as he stood in its shadow, and could only watch as it engaged its main thrusters and soared up into the blue sky.


	30. Dull on Both Sides

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**[April 4****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class**_** Hercules **__**–**_**Slipspace]**

Amy walked down the hallway towards the medical bay, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. It was early in the morning, from what she was able to guess, and she was going to see how Troy was doing. He had been ordered to stay in the medical bay for at least a week. The doctors wanted to keep an eye on him, and it's not like there was much more to do in Slipspace but laze around anyway. Renee was still asleep, she had gone to bed as soon as she came aboard yesterday, and hadn't woken up since. Amy guessed that she was really tired – but ever since Renee had told her about her potential problem, she had been worrying for her friend. If she was indeed pregnant, she would find out soon enough, and Amy wasn't sure how easy it would be to get an abortion, but she doubted Renee would have one anyway. She just didn't strike her as one of those people who could kill an innocent baby before it was even born – but Amy was desperate not to lose her friend and have her shipped back to Earth, where she'd have to raise the child all by herself. Amy chuckled, imagining what Renee's mother would think if her nineteen year old daughter came home from fighting two years in the war knocked up with a Spartan's baby. She'd probably disown her.

So, to try her best to help her friend, Amy wasn't just going to the medical bay to pay a visit to poor broken-jawed Troy. She was going to see if she could get her hands on some morning-after pills, and if she was able to, she wouldn't take any crap from Renee. If she had to, she'd get someone to hold her and jam the pills down her throat as if she were a cat or a dog. Momentarily, she cursed both Renee and John's stupidity before walking into the medical bay doors.

Troy was lying propped up on the nearest bed to the left. His jaw and face was still swollen and was severely bruised. The white bandages on his jaw and face made it look worse, for the purple-red bruises stood out significantly against the bandages. He was reading a magazine, and on a nearby tray there was a glass of orange juice with a straw, and a notepad and a pen – his current form of communication.

He looked up as soon as Amy entered, and he tried his best to smile, but it looked rather deformed. Troy abandoned the idea and raised a hand to wave.

"Hey," Amy said, and she walked over and sat down in the chair next to his bed. Troy, happy that he now had company, threw aside the magazine and grabbed the notepad and pen. He quickly scribbled a note and showed it to her:

"_Glad you came. I__'__m lonely, read through the magazine twice._"

"Oh poor you," Amy replied, rolling her eyes, "How are you feeling?"

Troy shrugged, and wrote another reply.

"_Alright I guess. They gave me painkillers._"

"Do you know when you're going to be able to talk again?" Amy reclined in the chair. Troy shook his head, and looked somewhat disappointed.

"John hit you good," she added, just to see what he would do, and had to hold back a giggle as she watched as Troy's face grew red in anger, and he scribbled on the paper again.

"_I wasn__'__t prepared! Who knew that idiot was gonna slug me one. I hope he dies._"

Amy read the words over a couple of times, and then glanced up to Troy.

"That's not very nice," she told him, "You don't hope for anyone to die."  
"_I do! I hate Spartan!_"

"He hates you," Amy answered, "I heard about the whole thing at the bar. What were you thinking then?"

Troy simply shook his head and tossed the notepad and pen back onto the tray and grabbed the glass of orange juice. He took a sip, not looking at Amy. She could tell by the way he was twitching his foot that she was getting on his nerves. She was safe, though. He couldn't yell at her, and wouldn't bother trying to write anything out on paper, for he was easily frustrated.

"I don't think Renee's gonna forgive you, I hope you know. I called her RenRen yesterday and she told me not to call her that! Imagine!" she went on.

Troy grunted, shaking his head. He set the glass back down on the tray, and picked up the magazine, flipping open to a random page and glancing uninterestedly at its contents.

"What magazine is that, Troy?" Amy questioned, and she snatched it from him, and looked at the page, to see it filled with a bunch of models in bikinis. She couldn't hold back a laugh, "Troy!" she exclaimed as she flipped through the pages, until she came to an article that caught her eye, and read the title, "_What girls like, get them crazy over you in no time at all_! What's this Troy? Gonna try and win over Renee's heart? Well forcing yourself on her when she's drunk is not the way to go about it."

Troy huffed, and grabbed the magazine from her, flashing the middle finger. He clearly looked angry, and Amy was amused that she got such a reaction from him. It was her way to get back at him, to get revenge on him and make it apparent in a not so upfront way that she was angry at him for attempting such a thing on her best friend.

"Now, now, Troy," Amy flashed him the finger back, "That's not nice sign-language!"

Troy rolled his eyes, and Amy figured this would be the best time for her to leave. She looked around the room, and pushed herself up from the chair, declaring her leave,

"I'll see you later Troy, if I see Josh or them, I'll tell them to drop on by, alright?"

She didn't wait for a reply, and she stalked up between the beds to the adjoining medical rooms. She poked her head into surgery, and it was empty and everything was spotless – the room reeked of disinfectant.

"Can I help you?" came a voice, and Amy whipped around to see a young fair-haired doctor wearing a lab coat and scrub pants and t-shirt. He had the stethoscope hanging around his neck, pens tucked into his breast pocket and he was holding a chart in his hands – a very stereotypical doctor. Amy peered at the nametag on the front of his lab coat - Dr. Eisner.

"Yes, um, Dr. Eisner," Amy smiled, "The name's Amy Smythe." She extended her hand – Eisner was rather good looking – and he shook her hand warmly, giving her a small smile and a nod of his head.

"Ms. Smythe," he replied, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, nothing technically for me," Amy replied, "It's for a friend of mine. My best friend, to tell the truth," she lowered her voice, "I need to get my hands on some morning-after pills."

"Ah yes," Dr. Eisner wasn't fazed by this, and he waved her into an office, where he closed the door behind them, "What's your friend's name?"

"Renee Kilburn," Amy told him, "Corporal."

"Is she asking this favor of you?" Dr. Eisner questioned, while jotting down her name.

"No, actually, I'm doing this as a favor for her," Amy explained, "I'm worried that she could get pregnant, and both she and I don't want that."

"Who is her significant other?" Eisner asked.

"John-117," Amy replied, "He's a Spartan. It may sound like an odd pairing but they're a sweet couple."

"I see," Dr. Eisner raised an eyebrow, "Can't say I've heard of Spartans being in a relationship, though they're mostly a mystery to me. I've only seen one, he was on here for a while…"

"That'd be John," Amy filled him in.

"Oh," Dr. Eisner answered, and then he was all business again, "Do you know when your friend had intercourse?"

"Yesterday," Amy answered quickly, but added, "I'm her best friend, she tells me everything, and she came to me because she was worried."

Dr. Eisner nodded, and then said, "Well, I can give you the morning-after pill, however, I should let you know that there are no promises that pregnancy won't happen. There's always a possibility. Make sure she knows that."

"Oh she knows," Amy replied, "That's why I'm worried. If it weren't for me she just would have let fate take control and waited to see what would happen. I'm trying my best to help her out."  
"That's kind of you," Dr. Eisner gave her a little smile.

"While you're at it, mind-as-well get birth control if you have 'em," Amy said, "Wouldn't kill her to start."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't. Now, just wait here, Corporal."

Amy nodded, and he went into the adjacent room, and came back a couple of minutes later with two boxes. He handed them to her, "There you are, morning-after and one month's worth of birth control."

"Thank you so, so, so much!" Amy really decided to emphasize, "I was so worried that they wouldn't have any aboard."

"We don't have a huge supply," Dr. Eisner told her, "But we do have a few. It's common sense, just in case. Your friend isn't the first, trust me."

"Thanks so much," Amy said again, "You're a lifesaver, literally!"

Dr. Eisner chuckled, "You're welcome, Ms. Smythe. If there are any questions or problems, don't hesitate to bring your friend Renee along with you next time."  
"Oh, she'll be here," Amy replied, backing up as the door opened. She looked down at the boxes in her hand then up to Dr. Eisner again, "Thanks again."

"Not a problem," he replied.

With that, Amy trotted out into the main recovery room, practically dancing her way down between the hospital beds. A nurse, who was changing the sheets on a bed, gave her a quizzical look – as a med bay wasn't usually a place of so much happiness where someone would flounce their way out. As Amy was approaching Troy's bed, she saw him snatch the notepad and pen off the table, flip to a new page and write something frantically. Knowing it was directed towards her, Amy paused at the foot of his bed, with a smile on her face.

Finishing what he had to say in a flourish, Troy held up the note, like a judge holding up their score in a contest. Amy leaned forward, and she saw it said in big scrawling print:

"_What was that about?_"

"Sorry Troy," Amy announced, holding up the box in the air and waggling it tantalizingly in front of his face. Just as he tried to snatch it from her hands, she whipped her arm back and declared with a throaty laugh, "It's classified."

She didn't wait to see Troy's stupefied expression before she hurried out the door. Basically jogging down the hallway, she passed Josh, Kirk and Blaine, who were obviously heading to the med bay to pay a visit to their LT – whom now would be bothered with his unanswered curiosity.

* * *

Amy ran like she had a horde of Covenant Elites on her tail. One would think what she was carrying was something holy and would inevitably change the lives of thousands of people, when in fact; it would only fix and prevent a problem for two. Or that was the hope, anyway. The obnoxious friend didn't even bother to knock, she just ran into Renee's room, and jumped on the sleeping girl's bed. Renee woke with a start, letting out a little scream and shooting up out of bed, almost falling flat on her butt. She recoiled at first when she saw Amy, but then when she realized it was no one who could harm her, she abandoned the idea of finding an object to hit her with. Instead, she stared at Amy angrily.

"What the hell?" she shouted, "What are you trying to do? You make one hell of a shitty alarm clock!"

"Isn't someone cranky in the morning," Amy observed, "I bet you wouldn't shout at John if he jumped in bed with you."

"Exactly," Renee narrowed her eyes, snatching up the pillow and throwing it at Amy's face, "You're _not _John."

"Maybe not, but when you see the present I brought you, you'll love me as much," Amy announced, throwing the pillow back. Then she snatched the boxes up and held them up for Renee to see.

"Christ, Amy, give me a minute to let my eyes wake up too," Renee snapped irritably, running her fingers through her hair and walking over to her locker and opening it.

Amy sat up on the edge of the now-messed bed.

"What if I was holding a million bucks?" she questioned.

"You're not," Renee glared at her, "But it damn well better be good as a million dollars."

"Oh it is!" Amy beamed, "Get over here."

Renee slammed the locker door, but lazily staggered over to Amy and sat down beside her. She looked at the boxes that Amy was holding out for her. Squinting, she snatched the first box out of her hands and held it up close to try and read what it said.

"I can't read this," she grumbled, "The print is really small. What the hell is it?" She shook it like a child would shake their Christmas present. When the contents shifted and made a little rattling noise, she gave Amy a weird look.

"Better not be condoms, or I swear to God Amy, I'll kick your ass outa here so fast…"

"No, it's better," Amy was fidgeting, "Open it!"

Renee gave Amy a long inquiring glare, before the curiosity got the best of her and she quickly tore open the first box, and two plastic packages tumbled out onto her lap. She picked one up, turned it over, to see it was a package containing one pill. She was silent as she stared at it, as if she was trying to contemplate what they were. Without a word, she snatched the other box from Amy and tore it open, too, and shook out a package of tiny blue pills. Staring at both of them for a moment, Amy knew right away that she had no problem figuring out what they were for.

"Morning-after pill?" Renee said in a small voice, "And birth control?"

"Yeah," Amy answered, "I'm concerned for you, and I figured it would be better, you can have something to help you and possibly deter pregnancy, instead of you having to wait a long stressful month to see if you miss your period."

Renee nodded, not taking her eyes from the packages on her lap. She kept nodding, like it was all she could manage to do. A moment passed, until she turned to face her friend with open arms.

"Thank you so much," she whispered; hugging Amy tightly, "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I do," Amy chuckled slightly, patting her friend on the back. Renee didn't let her go for a while, and when she finally did, Amy saw she had tears in her eyes.

"I was so scared," Renee admitted, "I know it has not even been twenty-four hours, but yesterday when I went to bed, it really started to dawn on me. I'm not even close to being ready to have a child, and I'm not even sure I'd want one in the first place."

"You know, I figured that would be the case," Amy replied.

"It sure is," Renee nodded, looking down to the pills, "Well," she sighed, "Hopefully I can stop this before there is a baby, right?"

"Right," Amy beamed, and she gave her friend a high five. Renee then popped one of the tiny pill into her palm, and she tossed it into her mouth and swallowed. She glanced towards Amy, who looked happy to see her do it.

"Hope it works!"

"It better," Amy replied. As she looked at Renee, she realized how odd it would be if she were to get pregnant. She had such a little frame, and she looked almost too fragile to have her belly swell out the way it would. Renee was strong physically, but she just didn't look it. Her arms were small, although her biceps were visibly muscular – but not to an extreme extent. As Amy looked towards her upper arms, she spotted what looked to be a dark shadow sticking out from beneath her short sleeve. Before she thought twice, Amy reached out and pulled up the sleeve, only to bear witness to a large, purple bruise on her arm, and she let out a little gasp.

Renee, who was startled, glanced down to her arm, and her face flustered, but she didn't try and cover the bruise. Instead, she declared softly,

"I have one on the other arm as well."

"What from?" Amy demanded, staring at her friend in disbelief.

"They just started to show late last evening," Renee bit her lip, "They've gotten worse, but bruises tend to get worse before they get better, right?" She tried to smile, but abandoned the idea when Amy looked nothing but serious, her green eyes burning with concern.

"You didn't answer my question," Amy snapped, "What happened to you!"

"At first I wasn't sure," Renee replied, glancing down to her hands folded on her lap, "But the more I thought about it the more it made sense. It's from John." She forced herself to make eye contact with Amy, and watched as her friend's face flipped over to an expression of utter shock. She couldn't have looked more surprised if you told her she'd won the lottery.

"What!" screeched Amy, "He _hurt _you!"

"No!" she was quick to defend, "Not intentionally… they were from yesterday, from… when we…"

Amy's expression softened from anger but quickly contorted into one of confusion.

"What the hell did he do?" Amy asked, "Use sadistic forms of foreplay?"

"No!" Renee shook her head, "I guess, when we… he just… held me harder than he realized. It's not his fault. It's mine. I bruise so easily," she showed Amy her left hand, where it was bruised all around her knuckles, and she explained, "From holding hands."

"God, look at that!" Amy exclaimed, taking her friend's hand delicately and examining it, "Tell the boy to be gentler with you! I wouldn't be surprised if you're bruised in other places too." She raised her eyebrow suggestively. Renee simply ignored her, shaking her head.

"He tried his best," she sighed, "He was gentle as he could be… I know he was. He expressed his concern before we did anything. He honestly didn't want to hurt me, and if he ever found out about these bruises, he'd never forgive himself."

"Well, I'm glad he actually took it into consideration that he could possibly hurt you," Amy replied, "I'd hate to see you if he happened to forget his strength! You'd be crippled."

Renee let out a little laugh, catching the innuendo, as she rubbed her arm thoughtfully. If one looked close enough, they could tell that the bruise resembled the outline of a human hand.

"You never quit, do you?" She asked, raising her eyebrow at her friend, "You can be really serious, but somehow you always find a way to round it back to some humorous joke or light subject."

"That's my job," Amy grinned, "I'm always good at cheering people up, although I tried to cheer up Troy today, but he wasn't so approachable."

"You went and visited Troy?" Renee questioned, giving her a dull look.

"I just dropped by while I was in getting the pills for you," Amy shrugged, "Oh you should see him. He was there reading a magazine full of girls, had this little glass of juice with a straw, and a special notepad and pen for communicating." She laughed, "He can't talk, only like grunt a bit, 'cause his jaw's wired shut and his whole mouth is killing him. So I took advantage of that and teased him some, he got mad, and gave me the finger."

"What'd you say?" Renee asked, raising her eyebrow, "Maybe I'll take advantage of this situation too, and take an opportunity to go and shoot off to him."  
"Oh I teased him about you, and said that I doubted you'll ever like him again," Amy smirked wryly, "Also I mentioned John, and he didn't like that one bit. In fact he said - well wrote, that he hoped John dies."

"He's an asshole," Renee made a face; "Wishing death upon someone when we're in the middle of the war is ridiculous. Especially when John was defending me and Troy started everything. I wonder how John's court martial went…" she looked frustrated, "See, I hate this. There's no way I can contact him."

"There must be some way," Amy looked thoughtful, "The Old Man can contact other ships and planets."

"Because he's the Captain," Renee sighed desperately.

"Well you know John, and the Captain knows John, so ask him if you can contact John somehow," Amy suggested.

"No," Renee replied, "It's not even been a day. I can survive without talking to him. I'm sure he's fine anyway. Like he told me he would be."

"Right then," Amy nodded, easily persuaded, "So, are you still going to give me _some _details? I deserve to know, you know, in case I get myself a Spartan in the near future."

"What exactly do you what to know?" Renee questioned suspiciously, "Because I'd prefer to keep it private."

"Are you happy you guys finally did it?" Amy quizzed her, "Well, besides the whole no protection deal."

"Yeah, I guess I am," Renee laughed in spite of herself.

"You definitely should be," Amy smiled, "You're the very first girl ever to have sex with a Spartan, be proud of that title."

"How do you know I am?" Renee questioned, "The Spartans could've. Like from what I saw of them, they all look very close. They're all generally good-looking, and I doubt John's the only one to develop feelings. They're all in their twenties; it's not like they're teenagers entering puberty, Amy."

"Well, you're the first non-Spartan to have sex with a Spartan," Amy was determined, "I bet you that, considering how Kelly and sexy James were shocked when they found out John was with you."

"Could be, but why is that important?" Renee inquired, "John and I love each other. I don't care if he's not a normal human, same as he doesn't care that I'm not one of them."

"Is there any way you could become a Spartan?" Amy asked, "Because then, John wouldn't have to be worried about holding back and being gentle with you. The two of you could have a hell of a time."

"There's no way," she shook her head, "I asked him, and it's impossible. You have to be chosen."

"Dr. Halsey knows you, she likes you doesn't she?" Amy asked, "Get her to sign you up or whatever."

"It's impossible, Amy," Renee sighed, "Besides, that's what makes us unique, Amy. We're different."

"Well I suppose," Amy sniffed, "Even if you could become a Spartan, then you'd look like Kelly."

* * *

As John sat eating in the cafeteria, at a table with Kelly, Linda, James, Will and Fred, he was silent and contemplative. He had been highly discouraged to have missed his opportunity to be with Renee, and was mentally beating himself up for it. He kept thinking that if he had run just a little bit faster, or if he hadn't stalled so long with Dr. Halsey, that he could've made it in time, and he would have been with Renee at the moment, instead of being stuck here on Reach. Not that he didn't enjoy being with his other Spartans; he certainly would have taken more enjoyment in being with Renee instead.

Ever since the whole ordeal with Kelly – news travelled fast, whether Kelly told the others herself or someone had heard, there was a different air amongst the group. None of them had warmed up to the idea of John being with a common marine, Kelly especially. Even though she'd apologized, John knew her opinion stayed strong. She seemed to do a good job to convince the others and herd them along with her as well. The Spartans each had their own reasons why they didn't approve of John's relationship, and usually it was a combination of two. A main reason was their concern for John's safety and how he'd shown them once what could happen when his mind wasn't completely on his work.

John hated this. On the mission to Capricornia, he had kept his mind where it belonged, and it had been successful. He wished that it would be enough to prove to his fellow Spartans that he was fine, but still they were concerned about him. He wished they wouldn't be.

Another reason for their disapproval was the fact that Renee was a marine. Will was the firm believer that Spartans should stay associated with Spartans, and marines stay with marines, ODST's with ODST's. Fred agreed with him, and so did Kelly. James and Linda thought that marines could be helpful at times, however they were a general slowdown, and they tended to get in the way and succumbed to injury a lot easier than Spartans.

John found this aggravating as well. Linda, Will and Fred hadn't met Renee, they didn't know her. Kelly and James were introduced but had hardly enough time to get to know her properly. He wished they would be a little more open, for he wanted Renee to be accepted for what she was.

"Are you sad, John?" asked Kelly through a mouthful of bread. She looked at him thoughtfully, and John didn't feel like answering, but the accusation that he might be feeling such a feeling made him respond.

"No," he answered.

"It's all for the better that you missed the ship," Kelly went on, "And I'm not saying it to be cruel," she paused to flip a rebellious piece of light brown hair from her eyes, "You'll find all of us will agree. You can love her, but it's not good for you to spend so much time with her. Be careful not to forget your job."

"I won't," John scowled.

"Look what trouble the little girl's got you in already," Frederic chewed on his lip, balancing a butter knife on his finger – he always seemed to be with a knife, "You almost blew yourself up, got court martialed for punching a Lieutenant…" he tossed the knife up in the air and caught it moments before it stabbed into his steak and potatoes, "Not you, John. She's bringing out bad behavior in you."

"Behavior that's meant to be ironed out," Linda added, folding her arms on the table, "The marines are slackers when it comes to rules anyway."

"I was paired with a group of marines not a while ago," Will began, "When we were meant to be on patrol, where did I find them? All huddled behind a bush sharing a flask of rum stolen from a higher officer."  
"You're being stereotypical," John said calmly, allowing their comments to wash right over him, "Only Kelly and James have met Renee. The rest of you have just seen her. You have no room to talk, you don't know her."  
"Well, since I do," Kelly spoke up, "From what I got to see of her, the girl struck me as relatively immature, with an ignorant attitude and lack of general respect for what was going on around her. In other words, she has her head in the clouds. If she goes around like that, she won't last very long."

"She's a good soldier," John defended Renee almost instantly.

"She's childish!" Kelly snapped back, "Only eighteen, isn't she?"

"Nineteen."

"Like that makes much of a difference," Kelly shrugged.

"We're not much older, Kelly," John narrowed his eyes.

"But we're different," she replied, "Your little girlfriend hasn't got even close to a tenth of our training. While we were learning to plant bombs, she was in school socializing, oblivious to the war. I wouldn't be surprised if she joined the UNSC because she was dared."

"You're wrong," John snapped, aware that the rest of the Spartans had silently gone back to their dinner, and they were allowing him and Kelly to tear at each other's throats with no interference.

"Look, John," Kelly looked disgusted, "You're acting like her! Arguing like some petty little girl. Why don't you just stop socializing with the little airhead and it would make everything so much easier…" she paused and shook her head, "Wait, wait. You know what? I'm not going to fight with you anymore. You can choose to take our advice, or you don't have to. Just don't come to me when she's in bloody pieces at an Elite's feet."

Kelly's face was red, and she stabbed her fork viciously into her food, shaking the whole table. She slammed her elbow down on the table, and leaned her head against her hand, blocking him from her view. This was a physical declaration that the conversation was indeed over.

John exhaled, clenching his jaw, and he looked away from her. He looked from James, to Will, to Fred, and finally Linda, who was sitting quietly beside him. She bit her lip contemplatively, but she looked up to his eyes cautiously.

"We just don't want to see you hurt John," Linda whispered, reaching out to gently touch his arm. He flinched, and moved it away, but nodded numbly. He looked to his food, and all of a sudden didn't feel very hungry anymore. John leaned his elbows on the table and looked down, closing his eyes. Sometimes he wished they wouldn't care, sometimes he wished this didn't have to be this way. Sometimes he wished he didn't have to be a Spartan, and hell, he wished the war never started, but so far in his experiences, wishes never came true. The whole ideology of wishing on a star was pathetic. You could wish, you could hope, you could pray, but sometimes, it did no good. The war wasn't going to end, things weren't going to change – and that went for loving Renee. He wasn't going to stop, no matter what any of them thought. He'd gone too far now to turn back; he was Renee's sworn protector, her lover, her friend.

Although she was light-years away by now, John was wishing he could be with her. Damn it, another wish. He wasn't with her. His only option now was to endure everything for the time being and wait until they would happen to cross paths again, whenever that would be. The _Hercules _wouldn't be coming back for any supplies anytime soon, he knew that much. So he was weighing his options, and it would be a wise prediction to bet that the next time they'd see each other, would be in a warzone.

He didn't know it then, but he was right.


	31. Initiated Attack

**Chapter Thirty**

**[May 5****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **_**- Slipspace]**

Renee strode into the cafeteria, a large smile spread across her face. If one were to look at her expression without being Amy Smythe, they'd think she had won the lottery or some such thing. Why Renee was smiling was a mystery to everyone but Amy, who, when she saw her friend come into the cafeteria, towards her table, with her cheeks flushed a healthy pink and the broad smile across her face, she knew exactly what was going on. Amy was momentarily tempted to rush up from the table and meet her friend halfway and take her into a big bear hug, but due to the fact that Troy, Josh, Kirk and Blaine were accompanying her at the table, she decided to wait until Renee arrived. It didn't take her long, and she plunked down at her usual spot across from Amy and beside Troy, who had recently had the wires removed from his jaw and regained the ability to speak – and his mouth was flapping full speed to his friends, as he was expressing his true emotions about the torture he'd endured for the past month that he hadn't been able to get on paper.

Troy barely glanced at Renee, for the two of them were currently on non-speaking terms. Renee didn't so much as offer him a second of her time, she looked right to Amy, folding her arms on the table and raising her eyebrow.

Amy glanced to the boys then to her friend, leaning in closer to Renee, speaking lowly:

"Lemme guess, you've got damned good news," the excitement in her voice was easily heard.

"Right," Renee beamed, laughing slightly, "Luck was on my side this time," she raised her hand and Amy slapped it in an enthusiastic high-five. Troy, who couldn't keep his now-deformed nose out of other people's business, couldn't help but butt right on in.

"What's got you two in such good cheer?" he asked. He spoke carefully, not too fast, for his jaw was still a little sore and he didn't want to screw anything up. After being in the hospital ward for nearly four weeks, he was the most careful anyone had seen him. He walked like he was afraid a piece of dust was going to spring alive, jump up and trip him.

"Oh nothing that'd concern you, Troy, really," Amy answered, keeping her nose somewhat arrogantly in the air, not bothering to turn her head in his direction. Troy didn't care for being snubbed, she knew that, but he didn't say anything, except frown ever so carefully.

"That asshole better'd not be coming back, is he?" Troy snapped to conclusions, glaring suspiciously from Renee's happy face to Amy's snobby one. Renee whipped her head in his direction, the first actual real attempt at paying attention to him. Her brown eyes were suddenly vicious.

"He's not," she spat, raising her eyebrow ever so elegantly, "Why would you be concerned anyway? Whatever we might be talking about is none of your business, Lieutenant. Not to be rude or anything, of course." She gave him a bittersweet smile.

"What's up your ass, RenRen?" Troy asked, mocking her, "Not to be rude or anything, of course."

"Don't call me that," she hissed.

"I told you Troy, don't call her that," Amy waggled her finger at him; "You gotta listen sometimes. It wouldn't kill you."

Troy glanced back to his friends, seeing they were leaving him alone and engaging in their own conversation. He looked back to Renee and Amy, sighing. He ran his fingers through his freshly cut hair, shaking his head. His blue eyes flashed an emotion Renee couldn't quite place a finger on.

"Why is it always a conflict between you and me?" he asked, leaning his head on his hand. His voice was serene, not mad; it was just an honest question.

Renee laughed a light, melodic laugh, shaking her head. For a moment, it sounded friendly, but her expression soured and so did her voice:

"You're really asking me that?" she snapped, "I'm not causing any conflicts. It's always been you! Who got pissed off at who when they joined the UNSC? Who got jealous of whom? Who took advantage of someone when they were drunk?" The last sentence came out close to a snarl.

"Oh God, Renee, did you ever hear of forgiveness?" Troy rolled his eyes, "Honestly, you can be so childish sometimes! I'm your friend, we were both drinking that night, and you know it. It wasn't any crime. You liked it as much as I did."

"Oh fuck off," Renee snapped.

"You did, don't try and deny it. If you had any problems, you would've punched me, like you did that other time on Lacerta," Troy wasn't going to give up.

"Keep telling yourself that, cupcake," Renee said sarcastically. Troy opened his mouth to protest, but she let out a big sigh and shook her head, beating him to the punch: "Just leave me alone, okay? Talk to me when you actually have something intelligent to say, and when you aren't in the mood to pick a fight, alright?"

Troy held up his hands, his friends backing him up with some "ooo's" from the peanut gallery. He rolled his eyes again, muttering something and shaking his head. With that, he turned his back to her, and Renee made a face at him.

Amy laughed, and Renee looked to her, her expression quite stressed.

"Jeez, talk about PMS," Amy grinned, "Shot him down, girl. Feel better?"

"Yes, I do."

* * *

The massive Covenant fleet swept through the vacuum, illuminated by the starry background. Led by the Assault Cruiser _Domination_, it was absolutely huge. At least a hundred CCS Battle cruisers tagged along behind the large flagship like a school of fish. Each one of them carried hundreds of troops and vehicles, not to mention they each obtained the ability to vaporize the planet ahead.

The pitiful planet, the human colony of Hydra, was hued a light green and blue, and the inhabitants were unaware that, death in a physical form, was approaching rather quickly. They'd be upon them in minutes, and get a good chance to wreak a fair amount of destruction and killing before anyone could get the alarm out to reinforcements, and at least an hour or two before the first ships would come to their call.

On the _Domination_, a very eager 'Malnoonee was pacing the bridge, up and down between the flashing control panels, past the worried Huragok, that were working furiously, tapping away, punching in lines of code and sending and receiving messages from the following ships with their purple tentacles. A few Sangheili soldiers were there as well, some Minor Domos standing by the bridge doors. 'Malnoonee's pacing was a little annoying, for the golden armor clad Sangheili kept going back and forth, his two toed feet making repetitive clunking against the floor plates with each step.

Rtas 'Vadumee, who was there as well, folded his arms on his chest as he watched 'Malnoonee continue his obsessive pacing. 'Malnoonee reminded him of a caged animal, or a nervous human held in captivity moments after its execution has been finalized – though 'Malnoonee wasn't pitiful and scared looking like the pathetic humans often were. He stood straight and proud, but his head was hanging low, as if it was almost weighed down by all of the thinking he was doing.

"Must you pace, Ship Master?" questioned 'Vadumee, "We'll be there soon, and there is nothing for you to worry about. It will be over soon enough, with another victory. They don't even know we're coming."

"Yes, yes," 'Malnoonee raised his hand to his face, to tap on his lower mandibles with his long slender fingers. He turned fully to face 'Vadumee, almost stepping on a Huragok as he did. The alien let out a little shriek and floated out of his way, cowering, but 'Malnoonee paid no attention to it. He declared, "I am not worried, Rtas. In fact, I'm quite enthralled! I can only hope the Spartan and his little female come to attend this event. I have 'Kolsamee waiting with an energy sword in hand, with one goal, and one only – to kill them both. If you go to his chambers, you should find him more ecstatic than me."

"Whether they show or not, it is bound to be entertaining," 'Vadumee glanced down to his deactivated energy sword on his thigh, "If you do not allow me to proceed with the ground troops, I will be certainly dishonored for eternity."

"You desire not to remain up here and watch?" 'Malnoonee tilted his head in confusion, "You prefer to stain your hands with the filthy blood of the wretched human inhabitants?"

"I need to get some form of revenge," 'Vadumee said simply, "I haven't forgotten the _Redemption_, and how some of my crew met horrible deaths."

"You would've died yourself if I hadn't ordered you to abandon ship," 'Malnoonee snapped, though he let out a little chuckle, "I don't want the same type of heroic pertinence this time, 'Vadumee. There aren't enough Sangheili as talented and respectable as you. Such attitude is the _Ossoona _way of thought, not afraid to die, welcoming it with open arms."

"Isn't that what we're all trained to do?" 'Vadumee asked calmly, "Not fear death? The Prophets seem to stress such rules enough."

"There's a difference between not fearing death and accepting death," 'Malnoonee explained, "The _Ossoona_, like 'Kolsamee, know that their role has been assigned to them, and their role will eventually cost them their lives. They accept it. We, however, may laugh in the face of death, never dare to cower, but we don't go throwing ourselves towards it. If there is no avoiding it, then, only then is it acceptable. It's a carefully drawn line, however, between cowards and those who avoid death, but it exists."

"I understand completely, 'Malnoonee," 'Vadumee answered, inspired by his words.

"Though, if you so desire, you may go with the ground troops."

"Thank you, it would be an honor."

* * *

The Covenant forces slipped into Hydra's atmosphere with ease, and no doubt caused unequaled panic in those who were helplessly watching from the ground. People's entire schedules mattered none as mass hysteria began to sweep the planet. It was the main city that was the first target, and people could only watch in horror as they saw the huge fleet of Covenant ships drifting lazily – yet ever so menacingly from the clouds, looking as if they appeared out of nowhere. There had been no warnings – it was obvious to Hydra's inhabitants that there had been no outside forces that tried to put a halt to the alien invasion – not even a speculation had made it to the news. It was like death itself had come down and made a surprise visit, to greet them all with an alien smile. It was different, and hopeless. It wasn't like just one country had gotten in a war with another, which was different. You could simply go somewhere else, to the other side of the world, where there was peace and protection. But here, the Covenant were invading the planet itself. There was nowhere to go.

The entire day had been ruined, as chaos took hold, and people began to panic on the ground. Cars went off the road; people abandoned their homes and ran onto the street. Children were separated from their parents; people were trampled in the craziness. Everyone was scrambling for a place to hide – the peace and tranquility that had once been there moments ago, transformed into something opposite, something hideous and terrifying.

It didn't take long for the fleet to launch their attack – the ships branched off, spreading out across the planet. The _Domination _stayed above the main city with several battle cruisers still by her tail. The drop ships were quickly dispatched, and came soaring towards the ground, turrets on – blasting and melting the ground and everything it touched. People who were so unfortunate to be in the path of one of the beams were instantly vaporized into a splatter of blood and gore.

'Kolsamee watched out from the side of his drop ship, the doors dropped open to give him a bird's eye view of the hundreds of humans scrambling like ants, their screams of terror reaching his ears. He chuckled, ignoring how eerie the screams were. It was a melody to his ears. He was doing a favor, he was cleansing the universe of the human scum, and it was an accomplishment.

He didn't wait for the drop ship to touch down; he leaped from his seat and landed gracefully onto the hard asphalt. He watched as the humans closest to him, stopped in fear to gaze up at him – like they were petrified. Their already pale faces grew almost ghostly white – like the color of the Demon's, and their movements were retarded by the fear, but they took off, running, screaming things in their language. Praying to their supposed God, asking for mercy, asking someone to save them – it was pathetic. 'Kolsamee tore out his energy sword, and he activated it, the wonderful weapon sizzling to life, sparking the air around it with heat. He charged forward, and swiped it through the first unfortunate human. The body came apart in two pieces, blood spraying 'Kolsamee and the ground around it, and fell, motionless. The people closest to witness the massacre screamed again and ran, some of them so clumsy and blinded by their fear that they ran into things and other humans, tripped over each other and crashed to the ground.

'Kolsamee was amused, shaking himself and wiping the blood from his black armored plates, and continued after them. He could use his invisibility cloaking, but at this moment he was so high on adrenaline and the thrill of murder he didn't need it. He could take on anyone right now. He wanted the humans to see him, to be afraid of him, to understand what they were dealing with.

He made a few lopes forward, decapitated one human, and impaled another. One was particularly swift and tried to dodge his blade, but 'Kolsamee only missed his mark and the human's arm was sliced from his body. The limb fell to the ground and so did the injured human, and he began to scream loudly, meanwhile trying to stop the blood that was spraying out of the wound with each consecutive heartbeat. 'Kolsamee glowered down at him in disgust, and just drew back his arm to deliver the finishing blow, when a horde of Unggoy came charging – and leaped right onto the human, screaming their own battle cries in their annoying, high pitched voices. 'Kolsamee withdrew, and leaped right over the mass of squirming Unggoy and the one-armed human as they brawled with one another. He hated the Unggoy, and felt no desire to be around them, with their ridiculous forms of tactics – they, in 'Kolsamee's opinion, were no better than the humans.

'Kolsamee broke into a light run, the mass of fleeing humans had moved on – they were being chased by several other Sangheili, Unggoy and Kig-Yar. The humans were foolish enough to break off into different directions, only to be hunted down easier by a well-placed plasma beam, or perhaps even a grenade.

'Kolsamee continued along, killing humans that were within an arm's reach – mostly ones who were too afraid to run. They accepted their deaths rather quietly, although there was the occasional one who screamed and prayed and fell to their knees at his feet begging for their life to be spared. It mattered not, 'Kolsamee didn't even listen to their words – there was nothing wise to be heard. They were the dirt of the universe, and he had orders to kill them. There were no lives to be spared.

He came across one building, where rather stupidly, a large group of humans hid inside – but could clearly be seen through the large glass window. When they saw him, they all started screaming and panicking. 'Kolsamee could see there were male and female humans, as well as children hiding in this building. He didn't care; he drove his fist through the glass, shattering it, and then tore a plasma grenade from his belt. As he stood on the window ledge, he felt all the human eyes looking up at him, and at the grenade he had clutched in his hand. For a moment, 'Kolsamee felt a strange feeling in his stomach, which he didn't like. He was working well to push it aside, when all of a sudden, a little human boy, a child, stood up from the rest of the humans. Looking at him with big round eyes brimming with tears, the little boy spoke in a small, high pitched voice – similar to the Unggoy.

"Please, don't kill us, Mr. Alien," he said, his bottom lip quivering, "My whole family is here…"

A female human, which must have been his mother, half stood up and grasped at her son, trying to pull him away from 'Kolsamee, who was surprised by this confrontation.

"Billy, come here…" The mother half-sobbed, "Come here…"

"But mommy," the boy named Billy protested. Surprisingly, the little boy was able to get from his mother's grasp, and he ran right up to 'Kolsamee. Billy's mother was brought to hysterics, terrified for her son, but neither she nor anyone else in the room could muster up enough courage to try and get him.

'Kolsamee looked from the crying mother to the little boy standing at his feet. He didn't move – he was utterly floored by this little human's courage. He had seen full grown male humans cry and sob and run like cowards – but this one little boy was standing right in front of him, looking right into his eyes.

"Please," Billy repeated, "If you can understand me, Mr. Alien, we don't want to hurt you. Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt my Mommy or Daddy; don't hurt these other people…"

'Kolsamee still stood there – the only movement was his shoulders heaving with each deep breath he took. His fingers tightened around the plasma grenade in his hand – damn it, all he had to do was activate it, throw it in the room, and kill them all… but for some reason, he couldn't, and because of this, 'Kolsamee let a frustrated growl climb its way out of his throat, and Billy took a step backwards, and his mother let out a muffled scream.

The Sangheili glanced back over his shoulder, and saw no one was there to see what he did. Determined, he activated the plasma grenade, and it came to life in his hands, glowing a light blue, and all of the humans gasped, but with a roar, 'Kolsamee whipped around and threw the plasma grenade out onto the street. It arced across the road, and stuck to a wall of a building. There was a deafening explosion as the wall melted upon the detonation, and crumbled to the ground. 'Kolsamee turned back to face the humans, and declared in his deep voice:

"If you want to live, don't stay here."

He saw the joy on Billy's pudgy little face, but everyone else looked bewildered. 'Kolsamee jumped down back into the street, and didn't look back, suddenly burdened with the guilt. He'd just committed the ultimate treason, the ultimate betrayal. He was meant to kill humans without question, but he had allowed a little human boy to persuade him otherwise. At that moment, he was tempted to take his plasma rifle, put it to his head, and kill himself. 'Kolsamee felt his honor slipping through his fingers, his dread creeping up on him – he was a heretic. A heretic, and the only ones with the proof was himself and the humans huddled back in the room, humans that should have been dead by now.

'Kolsamee ducked into an alleyway, and whipped his plasma rifle up and put it to his head, right below his eye. He could feel the heat from the weapon as the plasma charged inside of the barrel. His finger curled around the trigger, and he exhaled.

No.

He had one last mission, to kill the Spartan, and his female companion, that was the whole reason why he was here. He had to kill them, and then it was done. He lowered his plasma rifle, ever so slowly, from his own skull. Kill the Spartan, kill the girl. After that was over, though, killing himself sounded just as nice.

"'Kolsamee, there you are!" a familiar voice made him jump, and 'Kolsamee whipped around to see Rtas 'Vadumee standing at the mouth of the alleyway, looking down at him. For a moment, he wondered if Rtas had been witness to him contemplating his own suicide, but nothing in Rtas' features portrayed that he'd seen a thing.

"'Vadumee," 'Kolsamee exhaled, "Any news? Has the human reinforcements been called?"

"Yes," 'Vadumee answered, "We were able to catch some of their transmissions. They've called for Spartans, as well."

"My Spartan?" 'Kolsamee demanded.

"Specifically, one Master Chief," 'Vadumee tilted his head.

'Kolsamee threw his head back and allowed a nervous chuckle to come from his mouth, and then he nodded.

"That's the one," 'Kolsamee gazed down at the plasma rifle in his hand, "When will he be here?"

"They expect within the next few hours," 'Vadumee replied, "Along with the marines. That ought to be some fun, won't it?"

"Indeed," 'Kolsamee agreed, "We'll destroy them with ease."

"'Not you, though," 'Vadumee declared bleakly.

"Why ever not?" 'Kolsamee stepped away from the wall, glaring at 'Vadumee, "They think I might get myself killed before the Spartan arrives?"

"'Malnoonee said specifically for you to stay invisible, stay hidden until it's been confirmed he's arrived and that he's in the vicinity," 'Vadumee told him, his expression not faltering, "And those are orders."

"I really would be better off killing," 'Kolsamee protested, "Trust me."

"You might be, but 'Malnoonee's given the orders," 'Vadumee snapped, "If you want to argue with him, so be it, though I doubt you'll get your way. 'Malnoonee doesn't want anything to go wrong."

"Everything already has," 'Kolsamee muttered beneath his breath.

"What?" 'Vadumee asked sharply.

"Nothing, sir," 'Kolsamee gave 'Vadumee an agreeable nod, "I will go into hiding, I shall not argue with 'Malnoonee. I'll kill the Spartan and the girl without any problems."

"That's good," 'Vadumee narrowed his eyes, "Normally you _Ossoona_ are hard to persuade."

"In any other situation I would be," 'Kolsamee strode up the alley way, and brushed past 'Vadumee, "But, just like the Spartan, I haven't much time left. I don't really feel like spending it arguing."

"What do you mean, 'Kolsamee?" 'Kolsamee heard 'Vadumee say, starting after him.

"It doesn't matter," 'Kolsamee declared, clenching his fists, "I'll be dead in the end either way, whether I win or lose."

'Vadumee was about to speak, but he watched 'Kolsamee activate his invisibility. His entire form blurred, and then he was gone, disappeared into thin air. He heard his feet scuffing on the asphalt, away from him. 'Vadumee shook his head, and glanced up at the sky. He could never understand _Ossoona_, but then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to try.

Letting out a little growl of frustration, 'Vadumee ran off down the street, following the sounds of gunfire and the pathetic screams of the humans, his energy sword at the ready.

* * *

When Keira received the notification of the Covenant invading Hydra with a fleet of over a hundred ships, she wished she had a physical human form. Captain Thomsen was slumped at one of the control panels, fast asleep. The other bridge workers were on lunch break, and she was controlling the _Hercules_ by herself, and her mind was rather whizzing at the moment.

"Blake!" she cried, although her voice only went to a certain amount of decibels. Her holographic form flickered with irritation, and she tried again, "Blake! Wake up, Blake!"

Letting out a little sigh, she muttered, "Oh, I don't need him."

She didn't wait for his authority; she changed the _Hercules _destination to Hydra's appropriate coordinates, and the thrusters to full speed, meanwhile also responding to the ship that'd sent the message, confirming that they were on their way. Lastly, she went over in the intercom, and declared, "_Attention all crew. This is not your Captain speaking; he__'__s currently taking a nap. I__'__ve just received reports that the Covenant has launched an attack on the colony of Hydra, and we are making an emergency response. I wanted you all suited up and ready to go within the next few hours. This is not a drill. Keira out_."

* * *

In the cafeteria, everything had grown silent, although Blaine was the first make some racket. He jumped up from the table and cried, "Finally, we get to see some action and kick some alien ass!" There was a moment's silence, but then everyone else – besides Renee and Amy – whooped the traditional marine response, the good ol' "Ooh-rah!"

"Who's Keira?" Amy asked Renee lowly, "The Captain's girlfriend?"

"No, you don't know who Keira is?" Renee asked, bewildered, "She's the ships AI!"

"Oh, right," Amy answered, "Now that I've gotten that straightened out, I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly sharing everyone else's enthusiasm. This planet, Hydra, they'd better call John or some other Spartans in to help us. If not, we're creamed."

"I'm sure they'll get some Spartan," Renee answered, as they both got up from the table, "It isn't wise for just marines to try and battle the Covenant in these times. The odds themselves are a plain indicator of that."

"Another planet, damn those bastards," Amy shook her head, "I wish those fucking aliens would just go shove their heads up their own asses for a change."

"Well it's our job, we're meant to fight them," Renee replied, "And I don't know about you, but it's been a couple of months, and I really want to kill something."

"You're just PMSing," Amy spat.

"No, I'm not," Renee rolled her eyes, "I'm always up for killing aliens."

"Last time you tried to take one on by yourself, it nearly strangled you," Amy answered, remembering clearly that the Elite had been 'Kolsamee, the strange one that spared her life that night in the camp, the one who simply stole a ration pack, then proceeded to eat it and watch her from beneath the tree – the huge one in the black armor with the bright, creepy yellow eyes. She shivered at just the memory of that Elite.

"That strange Elite, that's right," Renee replied, "But he was different, Amy. He was huge; it was like a Spartan Elite or something. The one before that, do you remember the whole incident with the Ghost? I took that Elite out no problem."

"Yeah," was all that Amy could say. She just hoped that they wouldn't run into 'Kolsamee again, because it could easily kill them all if it wanted to. She was still puzzled as to why it'd allowed her to live that night, along with everyone else.

They both heard footsteps coming up behind them, and Renee knew without even looking that it was Troy. Amy looked back over her shoulder, however, and confirmed her guess when she declared, "Whaddya want?"

"You two girls ditched me," Troy sounded offended, "It's not a very nice thing to do to your best friend, or your Lieutenant for that matter."

"I never knew you were wanting to tag along," Amy raised an eyebrow at him as he fell into step with her and Renee. He smiled ever so slightly.

"You know me better than that," Troy answered, "We're gonna be fighting aliens in a few hours. We have to rekindle our relationships; we're a team down there. I figured it'd be best to start practicing now."

"Oh, great," Renee muttered.

Troy frowned at her.

"I can say some intelligent things, Renee," he said, "If you'd want me to use huge words and speak with the vocabulary of a scholar, I can. Now that this has come up, you can't afford to snub me when were down in the middle of a battle."

"I'm not asking you to talk like a scholar, Troy," Renee didn't bother looking at him as she walked, "But yes, I do understand your point. I will talk to you, I will take your orders and I will exchange ideas and tactics – on the ground. But for now, while we're taking showers and getting suited up, I see no point in talking to you. I don't want to waste my breath."

"Okay," Troy said slowly, sounding irritated, "Of course, though, it wouldn't kill you to talk. You were never antisocial."

"I'm talking to Amy," Renee flicked her eyes towards him for just a moment, "Not you. Feel free to jabber away once we are finished of our conversation, but you'll find Amy will be the only participant. Sure I might listen, but I won't respond."

"Oh I think I know what's wrong with you," Troy said flatly, "Goddamned women."

"What do you think is wrong with me?" Renee snapped.

"You're… oh Jesus, help me out Amy…" Troy was desperately trying to avoid that delicate subject.

"She's PMSing," Amy finished, "Can't you say that? Are you embarrassed or something? God, what are you, twelve? Grow up."

"You're both bitchy," Troy cried, "Why to me? Why don't you save your anger for the aliens?"

"You are an alien," Renee replied, "Alien to us, you have no place here."

"Yeah, well, thanks Renee," Troy snapped quickly, his cheeks flustered, "I'll remember that one. I really will. I'm going to take a shower; I'll see you in the Docking Bay."

He broke off from them, strutting down another hallway, not bothering to even look back.

"Doesn't take a hint, that one," Renee sighed, rolling her eyes at Amy.

"You are being a little hard on him," Amy told her tenderly, "Just a bit."

"He took advantage of me!"

"Over a month ago," Amy retorted, "You are awful when it comes to holding grudges! It would've been different if there had been no alcohol involved, but you both were drinking! Blame the alcohol, not Troy. Although he's annoying, he can come in handy. He's valuable to us."

"No he's not," Renee huffed, "About as valuable as a used piece of toilet paper."

She expected to rouse a laugh from Amy, but surprisingly she didn't even snicker. Renee was going to walk into the armory to get her suit, but Amy paused in the door. Renee stopped and looked back at her in silence.

"He's a friend," her friend declared flatly, "Always has been. He'd give his life to save us - you especially. You know that. He can't help that he's changed a little – we all have. He may not be the goofball who made animal noises in class, but he's still Troy Fisher. And look at you! You're not the same, you've changed! I have too, and we accept these changes because we're friends, and we have to stick together, Renee. We can't win anything alone, not in these times."

Renee looked at her for a long time, but finally nodded, ever so slightly. Her words made nothing but sense, and the more she thought about it, the more her words had meaning to them.

"You're right Amy," she said quietly, "You're absolutely right."  
-


	32. The Beginning of Chaos

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**[May 5****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System - Hydra]**

There was a huge difficulty in even getting close to Hydra. The _Hercules, _along with several other Halcyon class cruisers and frigates, had to use their MAC guns to literally blow their way through. They hadn't seen the likes of it before. The planet was defended as if it was the Covenant's own, and they kept their plasma torpedoes flying until they were borderline destroyed. This was the field in which they were winning, in ship to ship battle – but it was obvious they weren't putting up a big fight. Not one UNSC ship was lost, and after playing with them for a while, the Covenant ships retreated, either into a rather peaceful orbit around the planet, or diving into the atmosphere. It was like they wanted them to come in.

For the majority of the time, the marines and ODSTs of the _Hercules_ stood in the Docking bay as the ship was rocked with plasma torpedoes, fearing if they'd even survive getting into the atmosphere. It was one of those moments were no one dared to speak, for they knew death could come knocking at any moment, and they'd be dead before they knew what happened. Troy, who was standing in front of the formed up marines along with another Lieutenant, was rather poker faced. He didn't move, except to catch himself when the ship was shaken from a plasma torpedo. He didn't look particularly worried, however, he was chewing calmly on a piece of gum and gazing up at the high ceilings of the Docking bay, as if he was hoping to shoot down some Covenant ships with his eyes.

Everyone was formed up and ready to go at the moment they were told – they were dressed in complete armor and uniforms, stocked up on ammo, rations and grenades, weapons in their hands. Renee stood beside Amy, also chewing on gum – a piece offered to her from Troy. It was rather bland gum, with a dull mint flavor, but it calmed her to chew it. She hadn't spoken to Troy, only to say thanks when he offered her the gum, but was trying her best to find some way to forgive him. Even as she watched him in silence, she felt a bitter attitude towards him. She remembered the night of his birthday surprisingly well, and just to think about it made her stomach flip. It was possible to forgive him, she knew that much, but she realized it would definitely have to be gradual – for when she replayed the memory of John punching Troy in the jaw, she still felt the urge to smile.

She, along with everyone else, glanced up towards the speakers when Captain Thomsen's voice came over them:

"_The Covenant forces seem to be retreating. We__'__re going in, be ready to_…" he cut off, and Keira's smooth, almost robotic voice interrupted him, "_Marines, we__'__ll be touching ground in 20 minutes. Get ready to kick some Covenant ass. Good luck out_ _there_."

Everyone in the docking bay burst into laughter, as they heard Captain Thomsen mutter in an irritated tone: "_Thanks Keira_."

Troy managed to put a crooked smile on his face, and he said: "Alright marines! I'm sure you're already to do what Keira said!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" they all replied in unison.

"I want no casualties!" Troy barked, "None, y'hear me? On our side, that is. We lost Capricornia and we lost Lacerta, but I'm in the right goddamned mood to break our losing streak!"

"Yeah!" was everyone else's reply of agreement.

Renee glanced to Amy, and Amy looked somewhat skeptical.

"We won't break any losing streaks if we don't have some Spartans," she muttered, "Though, don't dare say that to Troy. He knows it, but will never admit it. Let's only hope they called them in to fight as well."

"Indeed," Renee raised an eyebrow, blowing a nervous bubble with her gum. She snapped it, and it echoed rather loudly, and Troy called on her almost instantly.

"Corporal Kilburn!" He bellowed, and quickly the marines in front of her sidestepped to allow Troy to see her. Renee made a face, glancing to Amy, then back to Troy. She straightened, and saluted, replying calmly, "Lieutenant, sir?"

"I gave you that gum to chew, not for you to be snapping it and getting it all stuck all over your face," Troy seemed serious looking at first, but Renee could see through it and watched as his features softened and he smirked.

"Sir, yes, sir," she replied rather dully, making a weird face at him.

Amy laughed, and Renee elbowed her hard in the ribs, glaring at her. Already Troy had targeted her as a subject for his stupid teasing, and she could feel her generosity to possibly forgive him slipping through her fingers. He was already treading on thin ice, and pulling things like that – when they were minutes away from heading to battle, was not winning him any points. She now understood why he'd given her the piece of gum, and her only – not to Josh, not to Blaine, Kirk or Amy. He was using it as a way to create some mysteriousness between them – which made everyone else think they were close. Damn it, he was just desperate to have something to share with her.

"Everyone, since it's twenty minutes till we're on the ground," Troy announced, "Feel free to talk, go take a piss if you forgot, whatever. But I want you back when we're counting down from five. Understood?"

Everyone muttered an agreement and fell out of line, branching off into their own segregated little groups or pairs. The _Hercules _shook momentarily – it was obviously entering the atmosphere. The lights flickered for a moment, but didn't falter. Renee turned to Amy, switching her weapon to her other arm. The assault rifle hadn't been in her hands in a while and felt strangely heavy. No doubt she'd lost some muscle, lounging around for a month, burdened with the fears of being pregnant and eating sparingly. She looked down to her arms, which were covered in armor plating and the thick camouflage sleeves. It was hard to tell. She remarked:

"D'you think I've lost some muscle?"

"Not really," Amy shrugged, "But Renee, you were never a tank to begin with, so don't fret. You'll always look like a scrawnbag next to John." She let out a little laugh after this, and Renee just rolled her eyes.

"The assault rifle feels unusually heavy," Renee complained, juggling the weapon momentarily in her hands, "I should be going to the weight room more than I have been… I'm not in the best shape."

"I think you're just paranoid," Amy assured her, "You're going into battle and you're just self-conscious and worried. As long as you don't get shot, blown up, or killed, you're good."

"What awesome advice, Amy, I'll treasure your wise words forever," Renee snapped sarcastically, and she glanced over to see Troy coming over to them. She held back a groan, and put on a fake, nice girl act. She smiled politely at him, making sure to chew her gum rather loudly, and she said, "Gimme another piece of gum, LT."  
Troy looked down to his breast pocket that held the package of gum, and patted it. The Kevlar beneath the fabric clunked, and Troy smiled, looking back up to her, "Nope," he said, "You ruined your chances. Who knows how long we'll be down there, I need my gum to help exercise my jaw."

"What about me, you greedy beast?" Amy snarled, walking up to him menacingly. With her combat boots on, she was almost as tall as he was. A grin crawled out on her face, "I'm your friend. Spare me a piece of gum, would ya?"

Troy opened his mouth to answer, but Amy's hand was in and out of his pocket so fast, he couldn't react. She had the package of gum in her hands in a split second. Troy cried out and lunged for it, but she twirled away from him, quickly stole a piece and tossed the package back to him, laughing like a maniac.

"You miserable…" Troy started, watching her throw the gum into the air, only to catch it in her mouth, but he let out a chuckle, "Pretty neat trick, Amy."

"What one?" Amy asked, chewing on the gum frantically, "My awesome gum stealing skills or my gum tossing skills?"

Troy slipped the package of gum back into his pocket, and put his hands on his hips.

"Both," he shook his head, laughing again.

Renee smiled at her friend's antics, and wished she could be like Amy. If she tried to do something like that, she would've only ended up making a fool of herself.

"That's why I always preferred Renee over you," Troy shook his head, "You're always so…"

"Vulgar? Obnoxious? Forward?" Amy snapped the names off with a smile and a rippling, maniacal laugh, "I know Troy, I know."

"She always gets like this before a battle," Renee said to Troy, rolling her eyes ever so slightly. Surprisingly, she was able to talk to him easier than she thought. Those words just sped off her tongue before she even thought them over. Luckily, though, Amy put her in a good mood, so she'd give Troy a little chance.

Troy was obviously surprised at this as well, but he smiled at her – the same crooked smile, and Renee momentarily wondered if that'd be his permanent smile, same as his crooked, deformed nose was now in place of his once straight, handsome one. Not handsome as in attractive, she corrected herself, just a nice looking nose. Not because it was Troy. Oh shit, she just decided to forget trying to sort it out.

"How's your aim?" Troy asked her, folding his arms on his chest, nodding towards the assault rifle in her hands.

"Haven't practiced in a while," Renee replied confidently, "But, I think I can hit an alien. If any sniping positions arise while we're down there, don't hesitate to call on me."

"You always were able to hit your mark," Troy complemented, his expression almost nostalgic.

Renee chewed on her lip, feeling her anger spark. She only hoped that anyone else didn't catch onto the innuendo of the comment.

* * *

The Spartans stood or sat stiffly in the Pelican, as it shook violently as it dove into Hydra's atmosphere. Kelly was driving, for she didn't want to trust anyone else – especially a marine. John wasn't sure if this was a hint towards him or not, but he or Kelly hadn't spoken much at all since their incident over a month ago. They kept their discussions to military ones, concerning battle tactics and the team. He didn't really mind, for he felt that she was the one in the wrong, not him.

John felt good to be in his armor once again. He had an assault rifle in his hands, a pistol on his hip and a rocket launcher on his back. After he'd heard about the size of the fleet that had attacked this planet, he wasn't about to pack lightly. He also had a half a dozen clips for the rifle and his pistol – it was an extra weight, especially with the rocket launcher, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. The rocket launcher only had two shots, so he'd have to use them carefully. He could get it resupplied but the schedule as to when or where they'd be able to get their hands on more ammo wasn't set in stone. In a chaotic setting such as this one, nothing was. Entire plans could backfire, new ones could be created on the spot, hell, this could prove to be too dangerous of a mission even for the Spartans and they'd have to evacuate all troops. But John was trained to deal with anything, to expect the unexpected. His other Spartans had been broken up into teams such as this one, and were dispersed over the entire planet. He was in a team of six, with Kelly, Linda, James, Will and Fred accompanying him. John knew already however, that this was going to be absolute chaos, and he was psyching himself up for it. Strictly controlled team leadership wouldn't work so well, and John was more than ready to head solo.

He also wanted to find Renee. He knew that the _Hercules _was one of the ships that had answered the call. After pulling a few strings and intercepting some COM channels, John was able to figure out that the troops from the _Hercules _were dispersed in Hydra's main city – which was luckily the same location his Spartans were given to defend. The city wasn't just the main city, but it was the largest on the planet. The Spartans would without a doubt have to split up in order to provide an equal range of advantage all over the city.

Once they were low enough to the ground, the back hatch of the Pelican opened, and John was the first to peer out at the ground below. For a moment, he could hardly see it. All he could see was dark grey smoke billowing up from the buildings, some of them on fire, some of them completely destroyed. It took no guess to see that the Covenant weren't wasting any time. He glanced up to see the large bulbous ship – the one that had lead this attack, high in the sky to the east. It wasn't moving, and had established a grav lift from the ship to the ground, in the middle of a large clearing. Covenant troops and vehicles were gathered in this clearing, as they were preparing for a larger assault. John could tell that they must have already sent out a fair amount of ground troops to slaughter the human population. Faintly, he could hear gunfire and screams below. His stomach churned, and he tried his best to wipe the idea out of his mind – that innocent people were getting killed every second.

"It's really sad, isn't it?" asked Linda softly from beside him.

He didn't look away from the ground and slightly nodded.

"Let's win this fight," John said determinedly, snapping the magazine from his assault rifle, then slapping it back in again. Momentarily, he joked, "Keep count, Spartans. Whoever kills the most Covenant, they might get another medal."

This roused a chuckle from all of them, except from Kelly, who was focused on piloting the Pelican and probably wasn't listening. All the Spartans had already obtained the majority of medals possible, except though, of course, the POW medal.

"To add to my giant collection," Fred huffed, shaking his head.

"Your marine girl gonna be here?" Will asked suddenly, and John whipped his head around to face him, though it was rather pointless because no one could see each other's faces through their visors.

"Yes, she is," John answered calmly, cautiously. If he could see Will's face, he would've been able to read his expression, but he wasn't able to, so he was suspicious as to why Will was asking. Will just simply nodded, and John guessed that he had just been wondering.

"Hopefully she won't whack her head off anything this time," James added, his voice hinting a muffled chuckle.

John didn't say anything. He just hoped that Renee would remain safe until he was able to join up with her squad. For a while, he'd forgotten of her clumsiness, but this newly-remembered fault of hers made him worry more than he had been. It would be just like her to make a foolish mistake and hurt herself. Momentarily, his mind flashed back to the main worry that had been on his mind – the possibility of her being pregnant. Just the thought of it made him feel horrible, and he could only hope that they both had been lucky and nothing had happened.

That was one thing he wouldn't have dared mention to any of his Spartans, even Linda, who was trustworthy and wouldn't tell anyone anything. He was determined to keep it a secret, just between him and Renee, and if it was necessary, Dr. Halsey, but no one else. Kelly would absolutely have a fit, he knew that much. She'd probably urge him to spar with her. Kelly and John had play fought before when they were younger, and she was faster than he was – and it usually gave her the advantage. Kelly usually was the one who won, and if she ever found out John's secret and wanted to fight with him, she'd probably pound on him until he was black and blue all over.

The Pelican touched down on the ground, and it momentarily shocked John, for he had gone off thinking. He quickly shoved all thoughts of Renee out of his mind and jumped out of the Pelican onto the asphalt of the street. He felt his stomach churn when he saw the street was covered in blood – and littered with still, mangled bodies of humans. The Covenant obviously had already been here. He heard muttered remarks from the rest of his Spartans, and finally Kelly, who took a while longer, in order to shut the Pelican's engines off.

"Are we gonna split up?" James asked.

"Yes," John answered, "You go with Kelly. Will, I want you with Fred. Linda, follow James and Kelly, but when you find Covenant, I want you solo - find someplace high and take to sniping. Now when I say together, I don't mean walking close enough to hold hands. Spread out, fifty to seventy-five meters. Cover a large area. Keep the shared COM channel on, so we can all contact one another if needed. There shouldn't be anything you have to say that the rest of us can't hear. Is that understood?"

Five acknowledgement lights winked, and John nodded.

"Just a question John," Kelly asked.

"Yes?"

"You are going solo?"

"Yes," John replied, "I'll be joining up with the marines, to give them some help."

Kelly simply nodded, and for a second, he thought he heard her mumble something that sounded like "Figures," but he didn't say anything. The Spartans then split up. John headed off down an empty street, careful to not walk on any bodies, but even more careful to avoid looking at them. He knew they weren't just men, but women and children.

It was silent, except for the distant gunfire, and the sound of his boots hitting the ground with each step. John was cautious, looking in every window, door, on every balcony and roof, in case of Jackal snipers or the occasional loner Elite or Grunt that had been separated from its group in the chaos.

That's when he heard a loud thump from inside one of the buildings. John whipped around, holding his weapon up, his heart beginning to pound in his ears. He focused on his breathing, and slowly crept towards the building, where a couple more thumps were heard from on the other side of a closed and half melted door. He approached, and paused right in front of the door, holding his breath. The sound came again, and then it stopped abruptly. John counted to three, and then kicked in the door. It swung open and smashed against the wall with a loud crash, but then several muffled screams were heard. Human screams. John looked to the corner of the room, and when he saw three people huddled beneath a table, he lowered his weapon.

"It's okay," John spoke calmly, approaching them, "I won't hurt you."

He saw the mother and father peek up at him through their arms, and a little boy was beside them – with brown hair and freckles. Momentarily, it reminded him of himself when he had been little. He watched as the family's eyes widened when they took in his height and size – and his faceless visor.

The little boy, ducked out from under his mother's arm, but didn't get up.

"What are you?" he asked in a small voice, "Are you an alien?"

"No," John answered, keeping his voice low, "I'm not an alien."

"I don't believe you," the boy's face soured, "How do we know?"

"Billy, shh," the boy's father shushed him, and he looked to John, "You're one of those Spartan soldiers."

"Yes," John nodded ever so slightly.

"A Spartan?" Billy's eyes lighted up at the sight of this, and he got to his feet, a smile breaking out on his face, "You came to save us!" He ran right up to John and hugged him, though he could only wrap his arms around his leg. He looked back to his mother and father, "See? I told you help would come! I told you!"

John smiled behind his visor, looking down at Billy. The little boy craned his neck way up to look at his face.

"Are you a robot?" he asked, unwrapping his hands from around John's leg. He knocked on the armor on John's knee, theatrically withdrew his hand and shook it, grimacing in pain, "Cause you sure look like one. That suit is really really hard."

"I'm not a robot, no," John replied, "I'm human. Just like you."

"Just like me?" Billy repeated. John guessed that the boy was no older than six. Billy turned to look back at his parents, laughing, "He's my hero." Looking back up to John, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Just call me Master Chief," John answered simply, and he stepped forward, extending a hand out towards Billy's father. He took it uncertainly, but John helped him up off the floor, then he helped up Billy's mother. The family of three looked pale, but from what John could tell, they didn't look injured, just scared.

"Master Chief?" Billy echoed, with a giggle, "Cool!"

John chuckled, and then he looked to Billy's father and mother.

"Are you injured?"

"No, just a little shaken up," Billy's father replied, "Though, I never thought we'd last this long, truthfully. There was this alien you see… a really big one… really tall."

"An Elite," John answered automatically, "That's what we call them. Did it come after you?"

"We were hiding in another building, about a few blocks down the street," the father continued, "Us and some other people. The Covenant attack happened so quickly, there wasn't much else we could do but drop what we were doing and try to find a place of safety. While we were hiding, one of those Elites spotted us and smashed out the window, and took out this…"

"A ball shaped thing!" Billy interjected, looking up to Master Chief with big eyes, "It glowed blue and exploded… with a big POW!" He shouted the last part, but his mother shushed him.

"A plasma grenade," Master Chief nodded, looking back up to Billy's father, "And you survived this explosion?"

"The alien, you see, this is the strange part," he explained, "Our son, Billy, he got up and asked the alien to not hurt us! We both were terrified, we thought it was going to kill him – but, this alien, it spared our lives! It threw that grenade away, not in the room with us. It told us to go somewhere else if we wanted to live."

"It spared your life?" John asked, his voice easily portraying his bewilderment, "Sir, with all due respect, those Elites know no such thing as kindness, they don't spare lives."

"This one did!" Billy exclaimed, "He spoke English too… sounded all low, like this…" Billy deepened his voice on the last two words and struck a pose which John easily recognized as a good attempt of an Elite imitation.

"That's so strange," John replied, looking back up to Billy's parents, "Normally, it would have killed you all without a second thought. Your boy first."

John watched as Billy's mother put her arms around him protectively, and looked immediately horrified by his bluntness of words.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," John said quickly, "I just find it very hard to believe. Consider yourselves very, very lucky."

"What's gonna happen to us, Master Chief?" Billy piped up.

'Well, I'll radio in, and I'll have someone down here to pick you up," John answered, "Take you someplace safe."

"Where's safe?" Billy questioned.

"Nowhere here," John replied truthfully.

"Can we ever come back?" Billy whimpered, looking sad.

"I can't answer that. It's too early to tell, but you'll be in good hands." John smiled behind his visor, almost forgetting he had it. He had become so accustom to being without his armor, which his habits of smiling and showing emotion stayed with him – though in this situation they didn't do any good, "I'll radio in now."

While John was arranging for someone to come pick up the family, he was well aware that Billy was watching him – his eyes were glued. The fact that a child was admiring him wasn't really a good thing. Billy might envy him, but truthfully, there was nothing to envy. Billy had something John long had sacrificed – a family, friends, and a normal civilian life.

John finished the radio contact, and turned back to face the family of three. They looked eager.

"Marines will be down to pick you up in fifteen minutes at the most," John replied, "I've told them your location, so just stay in here. Don't try and go to them, they'll come to you. This area isn't safe."

"Whatever you say," The father replied, "You're the expert here."

"Thank you so much for your help," Billy's mother smiled, "You really are a hero."

"It's all in a day's work, ma'am," John answered, "Will you be fine here by yourselves?"

"Yes," Billy's father nodded.

"Do you really gotta go?" Billy whined, looking up to John.

"Yes he does," his mother quickly replied, "The Spartan has to go and help other people just like us, he can't stay here."

"I don't want him to leave," Billy frowned, looking up to John, "I wish I could take a picture of you or somethin. But I lost my camera… I never got to take it before the aliens came. So I can prove to everyone that I met a Spartan!"

John thought for a moment, and then he kneeled down so he was close to Billy's height.

"I'll teach you something Billy," John said, "Something that no one else knows but me and my Spartans."

"Okay!" Billy beamed, and he looked excited.

"Okay," John said, "Can you tell if I'm smiling right now?"

"No," Billy shook his head, laughing, "I can't see your face."

"Exactly," John explained, "No one can, and they can't tell if I'm frowning or smiling or making a funny face like an alien." He paused to let Billy giggle, "So, when I'm happy, or any of my other Spartans are happy, we have a way of showing it. Like this," John swiped his finger across his faceplate in a gentle curve.

"It makes a smiley face!" Billy laughed.

"Yeah, it does," John chuckled, "It's called a Spartan smile. See if you can do it."  
Billy mimicked the motion, swiping one of his chubby fingers across his face in a curve – and he managed to keep his face serious beneath.

"Did I do it?" he said in one breath.

"You did," John nodded, "So you can say to anyone who doesn't believe you met me, that I taught you the Spartan smile."

"Yeah!" Billy cried, and he did the Spartan smile to John again, and John did it back. Billy made a face, and put his hands on his hips and questioned, "Are you really smiling?"

"I am," John answered, and he was.

He reached out and tousled Billy's hair, an action he'd seen done but never was able to do it himself. Billy laughed, and did the Spartan smile again. John looked up to Billy's parents, and saw the both of them were smiling too.

"Daddy, Mommy!" Billy whipped around, giggling, "I can Spartan smile, I can Spartan smile!"

John rose to his full height, and took one last look at the family before leaving the building. He was happy that he was able to help them, and only hoped that they'd be safe and get off the planet safely. The little boy reminded him of himself when he'd been little so much it was crazy. Though Billy wasn't as tall or as strong as he might've been at that age, it was obvious that the both of them had a similar trait. Luck.

* * *

Compared to the Spartans, the marines from the _Hercules _had a more difficult time getting from their ship, to the Pelican, then to the ground. The Pelicans from the _Hercules_ came in a group, carrying each a designated squad of marines. Renee, Amy and Troy were in the same group as last time, paired up with Josh, Kirk, Blaine, Luke and Henry. The back hatch was kept up for a good reason, even when they were in the safe area of the atmosphere with breathable oxygen. Plasma weapons were firing outside, and grazed the Pelicans as they tried to make their decent. There was a scream over the radio as one unfortunate pilot and its corresponding Pelican was shot down. Troy, who sat across from Renee and Amy, was clenching his teeth and looked incredibly angry, and pumped with adrenaline. There were causalities already, and they hadn't even touched the ground. Renee knew that this was a major blow to Troy's self-confidence and overall confidence of the marines.

Troy wasn't the only one who was feeling a huge wave of emotions. Everyone in the Pelican was - Renee and Amy included. Their faces were pale as the Pelican was rocked, and no doubt Renee was suffering flashbacks from when she had fallen from the Pelican. Luckily that incident couldn't be repeated since the hatch was closed, but that soothed her anxiety only the slightest.

They all knew, that once the back hatch opened, they'd have to run, guns blazing. It would be like Omaha Beach in World War II, way back in the twentieth century. There would be aliens waiting for them – Elites, Grunts, Jackals, maybe even Hunters. No doubt they'd be manning Ghosts, Banshees, maybe even Wraiths.

"Alright everyone," Troy said, as the pilot muttered that they'd be touching ground in a minute. Troy's voice sounded choked, worried, "When that back hatch opens, we have to run. We have to run – anywhere where there's cover, but don't split up, you hear me, don't split up! Or it'll be the death of us. Just run, shoot when you can, but run. Follow me, if I get shot, follow the next person. Understand?"

His eyes flickered to Renee.

"Be careful, everyone. I want no casualties, no casualties," He spoke the usual line, though this time, he didn't sound so confident. Renee glanced to Amy; they both were anxious, and obviously afraid.

"Don't get yourself killed," Renee said lowly to her.

"Only if you don't," Amy replied, and gave her an honest smile. She exhaled a deep breath, and everyone else seemed to do the same. Renee, who still had her gum, swallowed it without even realizing. She glanced down to her assault rifle, and checked the ammo although she already knew she had a full clip. She raised a gloved hand to her face to wipe the sweat that was collecting on her brow, and knew she had to survive.

"We're landing in five," The pilot started, "Four…"

Everyone got to their feet.

"Three, two…"

The back hatch began to swing open, and the gunfire hit their ears in its full potential.

"One!"

"GO, GO, GO!" Troy shouted instantly.

Everyone bailed out of the Pelican, and jumped out into the equivalent of a living hell.


	33. It'll Only Get Worse

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**[May 5****th**** 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System - Hydra]**

When Renee's feet touched the ground, she didn't even think twice before breaking into a run. Troy was already several feet ahead of her, his assault rifle aimed towards the aliens – the human weapons mixing with the sound of the Covenant ones, making a truly familiar sound. Renee glanced out of the corner of her eye, and saw a huge amount of Covenant troops clustered in behind a group of trees, buildings and rocks. The air was sizzling and flashing with the plasma bolts, crackling all around her. She felt intense heat as one flew past her leg, another inches past her neck. Fear shot through her, and she ran faster, ducking and dodging, stumbling over her own feet. It was chaos – all she knew was that she had to run. Her heart was pounding wildly in hear ears, drumming competitively with the gunfire.

That's when she remembered - her gun! She whipped her weapon towards the direction of enemy fire and blindly squeezed the trigger, her hands shaking as she ran. Screams, both human and alien, could be heard, and she knew they were a mixture of battle cries and cries of pain. Which one was what, was hard to distinguish. As her eyes quickly swept the scene, she saw marines, and aliens alike falling to the ground – dead or wounded, and the Pelicans struggling to get away, being pelted with equal gunfire. Her eyes focused ahead of her. Troy was running full out, firing his assault rifle when he could. _Follow him _– she thought – _I gotta make it. _Like her heart, her thoughts were going crazy. Fear and adrenaline twirled together into a deadly mixture that just made her want to collapse – she could barely focus. But she had to run. Ahead of her, a plasma bolt barely missed Troy, and he cursed and stumbled, but kept running. He glanced back towards her and the rest of the team, and shouted:

"COME ON!"

Renee urged herself to run faster.

With a quick glance back over her shoulder, she saw Amy was right on her tail, followed by what looked to be the rest of her team. She whipped her head back around, and saw Troy had dove behind a piece of fallen concrete, which served as good cover. He saw her and waved her towards him frantically.

She was so overwhelmed that she tripped before she reached Troy. She stumbled down onto the asphalt, but Troy quickly darted out and grabbed onto whatever part of her he could get a hold of and dragged her back the last way behind the concrete. A plasma bolt hit the ground where Renee had previously been – and Renee and Troy watched breathlessly as the pavement melted, very well knowing it could have been her leg or arm.

"Leave it to you," Troy said loudly in her ear, and then he drew his attention back to the team, who weren't far behind her. Renee let out a big sigh, and leaned back against the concrete, clutching her assault rifle close to her chest, her hands shaking incredibly. She watched as everyone, she counted them – Amy, Blaine, Kirk, Josh, Henry, and finally Luke – who had paused to throw a grenade, arrived behind the concrete. The gunfire was still filling their ears. She could hear the hissing as the plasma bolts hit the other side of the slab concrete – and finally the explosion of Luke's grenade.

"Good job," Troy said to Luke, as everyone huddled behind the concrete, "Hopefully it killed some." Troy looked almost sickly at the moment. His face was covered in sweat and he was almost a greenish white – Renee found this somewhat startling – for Troy always seemed to look a healthy shade, battle or no battle.

"Anyone injured?" he asked over the gunfire, breathing heavily.

Everyone shook their heads no.

"How the hell are we gonna get out of here?" Kirk asked frantically, poking his head up momentarily – then he ducked down as a whole whack of plasma bolts came flying at him. His voice faltered, "We're pinned here! They're slaughtering us… I don't know how many of us are dead…"

"Calm down!" Troy snapped, fixing him with a glare, "No time to lose it, Ronstadt! I'm in the right mind that if anyone wants to be a coward, I'll shoot them myself! There still are more Pelicans coming in, and we have to try and defend them!" He paused to peek around the corner, then ducked back and faced everyone again, "We have to distract those bastards to keep from shootin' at our boys coming in!" Troy's face crumpled up with frustration – it almost looked painful, and he jumped up and fired several bursts at the aliens, some of the bullet casings bouncing off Renee and the others near him. Meanwhile shielding herself from the flying bullet casings, Renee was studying him with curiosity – she hadn't seen Troy like this before. Normally he was composed, but he was shouting – his hands were shaking and he was abnormally pale. Instinctively, Renee looked him over – he looked fine, but then her eyes caught it. Right on his side, beneath his arm – she saw the dark red blood pooling out through a tattered piece of his uniform. Troy was wounded – he must have gotten hit by one of the plasma bolts. He ducked back down, the movement of his arm hiding it. He looked around to everyone else who looked pretty weary to even attempt to get up and fire.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" he shouted, sounding almost desperate, "Help me out!" Troy met Renee's eyes, but she didn't say anything. It was obvious – she could see distress in his eyes, he was hurting. How bad was he injured? She looked back down towards the wound, trying to see it again, but he was purposely hiding it. When she looked back up to his face once more, she saw he was looking at her, with a shocked expression of realization that his injury wasn't just his secret.

"Troy…" she started, but he interrupted her.

"There's a Pelican coming in!" He shouted, looking past her to the rest of the team, pointing back over at it, "Let's distract those aliens! Now!"

Renee exchanged glances with Amy, and then they both got up and fired at the aliens along with the rest of their team. They fired and ducked, fired and ducked, fired and ducked – meanwhile dodging plasma bolts that went soaring past perilously close to their heads. Josh was able to shoot an Elite right in the head, and he let out a little whoop, but a group of Grunts had payback, and several bolts of plasma came flying at him. He dodged them barely in time.

The Covenant, who weren't two hundred feet away, were getting angry – they were congregating around what had once been a park – and an alleyway by a tall building. Jackals climbed the trees, Elites ducked behind benches, firing at the squad of marines behind the concrete. Troy's plan worked, the next couple of Pelican's reached their LZ's and the marines inside were able to run to cover with not so much fire on them as the others had put up with. Troy's team was lucky – the other group of Marines from the second Pelican had been massacred, and their bodies lay sprawled out on the road and sidewalk, blood staining the ground red.

"We need reinforcements!" shouted Josh over the gunfire to Troy, who Renee noticed wasn't moving as much as he normally would. Troy whipped around to face him.

"Like what, Hamlin? Like what?" he yelled as he jumped up and shot at the aliens. He got a Jackal in the head and a Grunt in the methane tank, then ducked back down to face him, "The Goddamned Spartans? So they can show us up! Make us look like we can't fend for ourselves? We will win this goddamned fight without any miserable wind-up solider show offs! Is that clear!"

"Yes, sir," Josh answered, somewhat surprised by Troy's flying off the handle.

Renee glanced to Amy, who was slapping a new clip in her assault rifle. Amy met her eyes and shook her head – her expression readable as "Ignore him". Troy's words were so ridiculous, Renee knew they were. Troy knew they needed help, but he wouldn't admit it. She also hated how Troy wasn't going to admit he was injured either – she knew she should try and help him – but it was not the time.

All of a sudden, a loud battle cry of an Elite tore through their ears, and that's when everyone clued in that it was close. Everyone peeked up over the concrete, to see an Elite running towards them fearlessly, a plasma grenade in its hand.

"Oh shit!" Blaine cried.

"Open fire!" Troy shouted, and no one thought twice. The charging Elite was hit with a whole wave of bullets, its shields sparked, purple blood sprayed from the wounds, but it kept coming – it was like a nightmare. If the Elite threw that grenade, they wouldn't be able to get away fast enough. It would slaughter them all.

Renee glanced around to see everyone else with their assault rifles, and threw hers aside, and pulled her pistol from her belt, her hands shaking. She closed one eye and aimed, trying her best to put it on the Elite's head. She pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. The sharp shots echoed above the others, and the Elite's brain flew out through the back of its head, thick purple blood spraying into the air. Its head was jerked back, then its body grew limp, and it collapsed onto the ground, the activated plasma grenade falling from its fingers, growing a deadly blue.

"Get down!" Renee shouted, and she threw herself down behind the concrete, to the ground, holding her head. Everyone else did the same, and there was the loud hiss and bang of the plasma. They felt a heat wave come shooting over their heads, the air crackling around them – but then it dissipated. Renee's head flew up and she looked around. No one was injured. Amy was crouched to her left, and when she looked at her, a smile broke out on her face. She willingly gave her shaky thumbs up.

Renee looked to Troy, and saw he was leaning back against the concrete slab, his assault rifle lying across his lap. He was trying to make it look like he had his arms folded on his chest, but Renee could tell that he was clutching his wound. He didn't make any movements to give further instruction, and Renee glanced back over her shoulder, and saw everyone else was looking to him as well.

"Keep firing!" Renee shouted.

Josh looked particularly concerned, but no one protested, except Amy, who looked a little hesitant.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"You too, Amy!" Renee ignored her question, "I don't want any more Elites making suicide runs, you hear me?"

Amy bit her lip, but didn't argue. The sounds of the assault rifles once again mixed with the alien weapons and Renee turned her attention back to Troy, who was trying not to look in pain. She crawled over to him, and grabbed his arm that he was clutching his side with. He was strong, and tried to resist, but she fixed him with a glare.

"I'll break your goddamned nose again!" she snapped.

Troy sighed, and let up. She pulled his arm away from his wound, and she saw his glove was sticky with blood. She looked up to his eyes, and breathed, "Oh, you idiot!"

"Give me a minute," Troy grunted, pulling his hand away from her, "Just a minute, that's all, I'll be fine."  
"You're not being heroic, Troy!" she protested, but he shoved her rather roughly away.

"Don't touch me," he said, groaning through clenched teeth, "I don't need your help!"

"How bad are you hurt?" Renee pushed.

"I can barely feel it!" snapped Troy, wiping his gloved hand on his pants, smearing the blood across the camo print, "I said I was fine! Don't worry about me!"

"At least let me look!"

"No! Dammit, Renee, you're forgetting my authority!" Troy shoved her away again, this time she stayed away. Renee sat back on her haunches, and then picked her assault rifle up off the asphalt, her expression hardening.

"Fine," she replied, "Don't ask me for help again."

Troy's expression momentarily softened, and she thought he was actually going to let her look at his wound, but she didn't wait around to see. Instead, she turned her back on him, tucking her M6D pistol back into her belt and checking the ammo left in her assault rifle. Amy ducked down from firing at the Covenant and looked to her. Even in battle, she didn't want to miss a beat.

"What's up?" she mouthed, glancing past Renee to Troy, but Renee was too frustrated with him to offer any sympathy whatsoever. She just plainly shook her head, and took the safety off her assault rifle, jumped up, and took aim. She fired at a Grunt that was quickly fleeing from a tree to behind a bench, and caught him just seconds before he reached his destination. Renee was frustrated with everything, even with her weapon. She wished she could have access to a sniper rifle, for the assault rifle's shots scattered if one held the trigger down too long. The short controlled bursts didn't seem enough for her right at this second – but wasting the bullets would be just as ridiculous. Mentally, she agreed with Josh. They needed reinforcements; they needed a Spartan or two. Currently she was dealing with a wounded Lieutenant who was too high strung to admit he was even injured, and she and the rest of the team were momentarily stranded behind a big piece of concrete, that was slowly being melted away on the other side from all the plasma shots directed at it.

She had just ducked down to reload, when she saw a flash of green out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't the only one who looked up to behold the person running in a zig zag pattern down the street, towards the action. Her heart and hopes soared she saw it was a Spartan. As it ran forward, she caught the signature details - a glimpse of green armor, an orange visor. This Spartan had a rocket launcher on their back, and an assault rifle in hand. She heard Troy curse, but she watched as the Spartan sped forward, dodging the plasma bolts as the surprised and angered Covenant beheld the newcomer to the fight. The Spartan tossed aside the assault rifle in a blur, and the weapon cart wheeled across the pavement and came to settle close to a dead body of an Elite. They whipped the rocket launcher off their back, and this caught everyone's attention, drawing them in if they hadn't been closely watching before. Renee held her breath, momentarily loving the boldness and straight-to-the-point tactics of the Spartans. The Spartan dropped to one knee, took a split second to aim, and fired. The rocket launcher fired with a loud whoosh, and a yellow fiery ball soared through the air – right into the cluster of Covenant. Their cries came first, then the deafening explosion. Renee wasn't the only one who looked up from behind the concrete to watch as Covenant bodies, dirt, and mangled park benches were thrown, flaming, through the air.

Troy's team of marines – excluding Troy – and the others across the clearing, burst into cheer as the dust settled - all gunfire stopped. Renee watched as the Spartan focused in on a Grunt, that was still half alive, as it tried to drag itself towards the closest alley way. With a swift move, the Spartan laid down the smoking rocket launcher to the ground, then snatched the pistol from its belt – with an earsplitting crack, the poor Grunt's head exploded – and the last alien was finally dead. Renee was the first to stand up, almost uncertainly, from behind the concrete. The Spartan turned towards her team. Renee's heart skipped a beat when heard a very familiar voice come from behind the visor.

"It's safe for now, but for a short time only. We have to move."

A smile broke out on her lips; she should have known it was John.

The marines, from the other Pelican and Troy's team slowly came out from hiding, and Renee was far ahead of them, making her way towards John. John removed his helmet, and it was an incredible joy for Renee to see his face. His hair had been cut since she had last seen him – buzzed shorter, but he was as handsome as ever. As she approached, she thought she saw a smirk crawl its way out onto his lips.

Murmurs from both teams of marines were clearly heard, some of them positive, and others negative. The negatives were mostly heard from Kirk, Blaine and Josh. They had been the ones crying for reinforcements, but now they were shooting off full force because of who came to their rescue. Renee was able to block them out, though.

She stopped in front of John, looked up to his face, and was about to say hello – but then she saw John's eyes flicker past her, and heard footsteps on the pavement, quick footsteps. Just when she thought of turning around, Troy brushed past her before she could react. She caught a glimpse of his wound, but her attentions were drawn away from that completely when, before she could do anything, his fist was back, and he punched John right in the face. Renee's gasp was louder than everyone else's as John's head theatrically flew to the side, but she realized John had _let _him punch him.

There was a stunned silence, as John slowly turned to face Troy, who was standing there, breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving with anger. John raised an eyebrow, not even showing any emotion. He reached up and wiped at his lip, which Troy had successfully split. John wasn't even fazed; he wiped the blood away, not caring as it smeared across his cheek. His cold black eyes met Troy's, and he was the one who spoke first.

"Feel better, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Renee turned to look at Troy, her mouth hanging open. She was absolutely stunned, and confused. John had let Troy punch him – when he could have easily blocked his fist before it had even come close to his face. Troy glanced to her, and then back up to John, who hadn't moved a muscle.

"A little," Troy snapped, "Though once wasn't quite enough."

"Then do it again," John said calmly, his eyes challenging, "I broke your jaw; I can understand your motive."

Troy raised his clenched fist, and looked down at it, then back up at John, his eyes narrowing viciously. His fist was trembling, his knuckles bloody from John's lip. There was a deadbeat silence as everyone looked between the two, John who was shockingly unfathomed, and Troy who looked ready to explode. He exhaled deeply, and ever so slowly lowered his fist.

"You're not worth it," Troy said lowly, shaking in anger, "I'd break my fist before breaking your jaw."

"Most likely," John answered in monotone.

Troy looked defeated, like he finally met his match, and Renee could tell at that instant that something was permanently dead in Troy – his fire to bother with John and pick fights with him was finally extinguished. The Lieutenant half turned away from John, lowering his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to look at him. Everyone else was watching him, and Renee flinched when Troy predictably exploded.

"What the _HELL_ are you all looking at!" he demanded, veins popping out in his forehead as he stormed past everyone. The last word was yelled so loudly that his voice echoed ever so slightly in the silence, but if one listened closely, they could tell that there was a waver in it, "it's getting dark! Prepare to make camp! And we're not _moving_. I want everyone to have their turn on night watch!"

No one said a word, and they scrambled to retrieve their weapons from the ground, and they dispersed, leaving Troy to walk off by himself. Josh, Blaine and Kirk found themselves a piece of concrete to sit down on. Blaine shook his head, and muttered something. Amy, who was watching Troy noticeably limp off to be alone, let out a sigh.

"I think he's finally lost it," she muttered, and turned to face John and Renee, who were standing motionless beside one another. John was trying so hard to keep composed, his poker face was almost see-through. Renee looked somewhat pale. Amy walked up to John, and peered at his lip.

"Nice to see you again, John," Amy smiled.

"Likewise, Corporal," John answered, though he looked rather unpleasant. The blood was running down from his lip, but he didn't look like he was going to bother to wipe it. It stood out incredibly on his pale skin.

"Why did you let him hit you?" Renee demanded, "Why on earth!"

"I'm fine," John answered, "But it's over, Renee. It's over." He didn't look like he wanted to continue, though she realized that if she asked him later, she might get a better response. John continued, changing the conversation topic, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," Renee replied, chewing on her lip, "A little rattled, but I'm fine."  
"Troy's injured," John said simply.

"I know."  
"If he doesn't treat it, he'll be in trouble."

"Troy's injured?" Amy echoed, "I feel a little excluded here, love birds."

"He is, on his right side," John filled her in as if he had been the doctor that had examined him, "Plasma burn."

"That's what you were bothering him about!" Amy looked to Renee, "And he didn't want help?"  
"No," Renee replied, "He shoved me away, so I wasn't going to fuss over him. He doesn't want my help, so be it."

"Troy won't let it go untreated," John assured her, "He's like a dog; he'll go off by himself and lick his wounds, so to speak."

Amy looked from Renee back up to John,

"So did you hear the good news?"

"Amy, shut up," Renee didn't even have to think twice as to what her friend was talking about. Amy raised an eyebrow, but nodded, making a motion across her mouth as if she was zipping it closed. Renee nodded back, then looked up to John,

"You're alone?" she questioned.

"Not technically," John answered, "The rest of my Spartans have split up, to provide adequate defense of the planet. This battle might have been relatively easy…"

"Not until you showed up!" Amy interjected.

"And I'm glad I did," John replied, "This was nothing. It's only going to get much worse."

"You dirty pessimist!" Amy frowned.

"It's not pessimistic," John sighed, "It's the truth, and Troy isn't making a wise decision to make camp here at all. The Covenant will most likely come back."

"Well, if you want to go argue with him, go ahead," Amy said.

"He's just making camp here in spite of John," Renee looked up to him, "Right?"

"That's a logical guess, I suppose," John looked thoughtful, then he sighed, "Well, I'm going on first watch."

"I'll come with you," Renee said instantly.

"I'd much prefer if you slept," John protested, looking at her challengingly.

"I'm coming with you," she repeated, "We haven't seen each other in a month."

"Well you guys go then," Amy seemed to have no problem, "I'm tired. I'll go around and help everyone clear away the bodies and tidy things up around here, while you, Renee and someone else secure the perimeter."

* * *

It got dark rather quickly – the orange sun dipped below the horizon and most of the city was enveloped in darkness, though the street lights came on. A few of the surrounding buildings had lights turned on – left on from earlier in the day, but it was silent. Not just the UNSC but the Covenant must have taken advantage of the night to strategize and plan for the next day.

John was able to round up a few willing marines to do the first night watch along with Renee. One of them was from Troy's squad, Henry, but the others were from the other team. John quickly split them up and told them to do an organized patrol around the clearing, sweep the alleys, and if there were any signs of Covenant to radio in and sound an alarm. John wasn't going to take any chances.

Of course, he made it so Renee would patrol with him. They managed to share a heated kiss in the shadows of an alleyway before John had to put on his helmet, but once his helmet was on, he was all business, well mostly.

His motion tracker did well for him, so as he and Renee began their patrol, he was able to talk to her, but he wasn't about to rely on his tracker a hundred percent. His tracker could fail him, make a mistake. His eyes couldn't, so while he engaged in a conversation, he still kept himself on alert.

"So, you must have caught on to what Amy said," Renee began.

"I think I can make an educated guess," John replied, "She said it was _good_ news. If her idea of good news is the same as mine, I hope I'm right as to my predictions."

"Luck was on my side," Renee said simply, "Nothing came of our incident."

John was silent for a moment, but finally replied,

"That's good."

"I know," Renee sighed, "Though I won't lie, Amy helped me out."  
"I figured she would."

"She got me a pill, to lower the chances."

"That was nice of her," John answered, "Next time, you should have them before. Not after."

Renee blushed, and was thankful for the darkness.

"Or you could not forget," she added.

"Or, we could just exercise better self-control," John muttered, a little laughter was hinted in his voice, "Though, I don't think I ever had such a hard time trying to do so."

"You don't regret anything, do you?" Renee asked, taking a deep breath. This time, John didn't hesitate.

"No. You?"

"Not for a second," she replied earnestly.

They were silent for a while, their footsteps making the only sound, but then Renee couldn't hold back her temptation to ask another bothersome question that she figured hadn't been answered well enough to her liking the first time.

"I asked you this already," she said, "But I think I can get a better answer out of you. I know you had reason. Why did you let Troy punch you?"

"Because," John replied softly, "He wanted revenge, I allowed him to have it."

"But John!" she protested. His words didn't make any sense, but all of a sudden, his hand was out, grasping her shoulder, a signal for her to be quiet. For a second, she thought he had spotted something on his motion tracker, but she was surprised when all he had was the better answer she desired. He took a deep breath, and explained:

"Troy can't hurt me; he knows that – I was doing him a favor. It'll make him realize, that all along he hasn't hurt me. He's been hurting himself, hurting you, hurting Amy. Causing a domino effect that, in the end, the misery he wanted to inflict upon me was actually hurting those he wanted to keep safe. Your friend Troy is a complex figure, carrying a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He's slowly drowning himself in his own stress and frustrations. Picture it as he is wearing a backpack, and each day, someone puts a boulder into the backpack. Each day of course, it will get heavier and heavier until one day he is struggling to even stand, let alone walk with it. I think he's finally reached the point where he can't even pick himself up off the ground. He's destroying himself, Renee, and don't try and deny it."

"As shocking as it sounds, I believe every word," Renee answered softly, "So what makes you think he's going to treat his wounds, if he's destroying himself?"

"I doubt he will," John replied, "He might put a bandage on it, to hide it – but I think he doesn't care what happens to him anymore. I've seen the same case before with other soldiers, good responsible soldiers. They just fell apart."

"What happened to them?" Renee asked hesitantly, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"One, I knew, retired, handed in his rank – went to go live a normal civilian life. But, the others, they ended up killing themselves," John answered, "One, he put a gun to his head. The other, ran towards a group of Elites; threw himself at them. They shot him down before he could think twice."

"Do you think Troy will –"  
"Kill himself?" John finished, sparing her the two words, "I don't. But then again, I could be wrong. He's fallen into this deep pit, and I think he's just given up on trying to get out."

"I try to help him. I do, but he just shoves me away."

"You and Amy are his friends," he told her, "You should try your best to just be there for him, even if he's annoying."

"But you hated him!" Renee was confused now, "You punched him."

"I was defending you," John replied, "That's all. I can forgive him some, though not entirely. It's not in my nature to hate. That's reserved for the Covenant only."

"I wish Troy'd realize that."

"I think he does; though, he won't admit it."

"Like he won't admit everything else."

"Indeed," John nodded, "He's like me in a lot of ways."

"Both of you refuse medical treatment," Renee made a face, "The tough guy act isn't always that amazing, you know."

"But what type of Spartan would I be if I spent my time whining and moping?" John asked, "I can't do those things, have no desire to. I am what I am, and it's not necessarily a tough guy act. I do it for the sake of my team, for the morale. I'm a leader; I set a good example, even if it means putting up with pain."

"I wish I could be like you," Renee sighed, "To be able to put up with pain."

"Pain, I believe, is never physical. It's always in your head. If you try really hard, you can ignore it, just as you ignore everything else."

"I'll remember that," Renee laughed slightly, "Though hopefully when the time comes that I can try and use that tactic, I'm not in too much pain where it can't be ignored."

"Let's just hope that you don't feel any pain at all, Renee." John's voice got protective.

"Yes, of course."

They walked the rest of the patrol in silence.


	34. It Never Fails

**Chapter Thirty Three**

**[May 6****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System – Hydra]**

Renee was awoken with someone nudging her in the ribs with their foot. This was a rather unpleasant awakening, and it ruined her mood. As she drifted into consciousness she began to feel the ache in her whole body, the hard, unforgiving ground beneath her, the Kevlar plates jabbing into her side. Her eyes opened, to be level with a pair of combat boots, not John's. The light was very dim and hazy, so she guessed it was early morning.

She followed the boots up to their owner's face, and was disappointed and rather surprised to see Troy standing above her. He had a usual scowl on his face, but was looking off in another direction – but quickly glanced down when he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He was still pale and dark circles were highly noticeable underneath his eyes.

"Get up;" he said gruffly, "It's your turn for patrol."

"What?" Renee asked groggily, making a face, "What time is it?"  
"500 hours, no big deal. Come on, get moving."

"I was on patrol nearly for half the…" Renee began to protest, but her efforts were useless as Troy was quick to interrupt.

"You think I'm going to give you sympathy?" Troy folded his arms on his chest, "I'm not. You're to patrol with Henry, Blaine and some guys from the other team."

"If you say so, LT," Renee sighed, rolling on her back and counted to three – then she forced herself into a sitting position, the armor seeming really heavy on her at that instant. She looked to Troy, her eyes instantly finding the blood-soaked fabric underneath his arm. It looked dry. Renee softened her voice, "How's your wound?"

"Like I told you before, it's perfectly fine," Troy was irritated instantly, "Quit acting like you care. You didn't care when I was burdened with that broken jaw from your piece-of-shit-and-metal boyfriend."

"His name is John."

"His name could be Bullshit for all I care, I'll call him what I want," Troy was quick to reply.

"You know, punching him in the face yesterday didn't solve anything," she declared she got to her feet. Troy offered her a helping hand, she took it, but let his hand go as soon as she was on her feet. His glove was still sticky with blood.

"I thought it would," Troy said lowly, as if he didn't want anyone to hear. He made honest eye contact with her, walking further under the tree as if he thought it might hide him, "But, I know it didn't."  
"You knew that before you hit him," Renee snapped, frowning.

"I've been such an asshole lately," Troy muttered, leaning against the tree trunk. He truly looked like he regretted it. Renee leaned down and picked her bag, helmet and weapons up off the ground, nodding.

"Yeah, you have."

"I would try and explain, but I'm not sure if I can," Troy shrugged.

Renee realized that possibly Troy was coming to light about the whole situation, but she wasn't really in the moment to hear Troy throw up all his sorrows all over her, especially when she knew she'd probably be a large cause of some of them.

"That's alright," Renee said briskly, walking past him, "I think I can understand." She glanced back over her shoulder as she walked, "Well I'm off to patrol, LT."  
"Yeah," Troy answered quickly, giving her a little wave, though she didn't return it. Renee turned her back on him fully and let out a deep sigh. Since his mood, though, she decided to pause and really test how he was acting. She turned back around, and he looked up to her expectantly, his expression bright, despite his dull overall appearance.

"Oh, do you know where John is?" she asked.

"Not here," Troy shrugged, keeping his expression calm, "On patrol himself, or off taking a piss, maybe." A grin came on his face, "Or can those Spartans even do that?"

"I'm pretty sure they can," Renee snapped, rolling her eyes, though Troy's words were more hinted towards humor than just being rude. She turned around, and kept walking, shaking her head.

"Alright RenRen; sure," Troy called at her back.

For a moment, Renee pondered turning back around and telling him off again, but when she thought about it, she wasn't in the mood to get in any further conversations – arguments or otherwise, with Troy Fisher. Lately his moods had been unpredictable, a factor that sidled along with John's theory of him being very unstable. Happy one day, then he would be lashing at everyone's throats the next. He was on a weak raft in the middle of a raging river, which was ready to flip over at any moment.

Pity for her had-been friend was threatening to overwhelm her, but Renee didn't even want to think about it. It was a grim situation, and although he could be annoying, rude, and another hundred relative words from that category, she still cared about him. Not because he had been her friend, but because he was a part of her team. She didn't want anyone to get hurt. It's how it was with the marines, if something went wrong they all felt each other's sorrows – though there was an exception in this case. John and Renee, and possibly Amy, were the ones who had the knowledge that Troy was teetering on the edge of a cliff, where the rocks beneath his feet would eventually give away.

His attempt at trying to explain things to Renee was the closest the Lieutenant would get to admitting anything at all was wrong, and she hadn't even let him talk. She could've, but she figured John's explanation was way closer compared to what poor disgruntled Troy would ever be able to describe.

* * *

Renee joined up with her patrol group, and received a greeting from O'Riley and the others from the other team, but only got a grunt from Blaine, who disliked her and John with a passion. She and Blaine never had been good friends, but they had gotten along fairly well in their high school years. However he'd only gotten ruder as the years went on, so Blaine's attitude towards her wasn't a peeve. Renee knew it was no loss to her at all. He wanted to be that way, fine with her. The same went for Josh and Kirk.

"You'll be fine going by yourself?" asked a young Corporal from the other team, "We figured it would be best if we all split up – it'll cover more ground and provide a more adequate protection of our base."

"It's fine with me," Renee replied with a shrug. She might even be lucky enough to run into John if they did things that way. She checked her ammo in her assault rifle and obliged when she was asked to take the north east area of the camp. They got everyone else sorted out and then they split up. Renee jogged across the camp, then through the bushes towards an alleyway. As she got further away, the sounds dwindled and the fact that she was now alone surrounded her. She wasn't worried, though. As she strode down the alleyway, her combat boots thudding on the cracked pavement, she wished she had a piece of gum, but she remembered the source and pushed that craving out of her mind entirely.

Renee glanced back over her shoulder, and then casually turned the corner – too casually. She froze dead in her tracks as she saw a blue armor clad Elite, with four Grunts at its feet. The cluster of aliens were turned away from her, huddled in a circle – but a Grunt spotted Renee before she could even try and back up. She felt the color drain from her face and her breath leave her as the Grunt screamed something in its high-pitched voice and pointed at her. The other Grunts squealed and jumped around to face her, their weapons aimed. The Elite turned around as well, with an angry roar.

"Oh shit," Renee muttered, as the Elite yelled something in its guttural tongue, and the Grunts cheered, but didn't fire. She fumbled to pull the trigger, and her assault rifle came to life. The rounds hit the Elite's chest, and it roared again, and charged as its shields sparked and the bullets tried to penetrate it.

Within a split second, the Elite had her down in two blows. The first, knocked her weapon from her hands, and the second, was a sweep of its arm across her face. She thought she felt something crack, and instantly her vision doubled. She stumbled to the ground, dazed. She could taste hot blood in her mouth, and heard the Grunts' laughter. Renee looked up to see the Elite standing over her, aiming its plasma rifle. The barrel sizzled with white-hot plasma. With split second thought, she kicked the Elite in the leg. It hardly affected it, but gave her enough time to roll out of the path of the weapon – it discharged, sizzling the ground next to her.

Renee tried to get to her feet, but she was dazed so horribly that she stumbled and fell back down onto her knees. Her heart was pounding and she tried to get away, but only stumbled again. She heard the Grunts howling with laughter, and heard the Elite roar, this time in English.

"Filthy human!"

She felt its cold, leathery hand grab her around the back of the neck, and she was hauled up off the ground. Renee screamed, as she was thrown like a ragdoll in amongst the Grunts. She crashed to the ground and the Grunts attacked her, all of them crawling over her like a bunch of insects. They pulled at her helmet, clawed at her, kicked her, and hit her with their weapons. Renee kept on screaming, as she tried to free herself from the aliens. They succeeded in removing her helmet, and threw it aside. She thrashed, but their claw-like hands held onto her like barbed wire.

Another roar came from the Elite, once again in her language.

"Let me!"

The Grunts scattered, and before Renee could do anything, it hauled her back up off the ground by her hair. She grabbed at the Elite's hands as her entire scalp felt like it was going to be pulled right off her head. Suspended three feet from the ground, she thrashed and kicked and screamed. With a kick to the chest, she made the Elite drop her, but not without losing a fistful of hair. Her head throbbed as she fell to the ground, just in time to see the angry Elite discard the strands of hair in disgust and come after her again. Her dizziness was still with her, but she managed to scramble to her feet. The Elite aimed the plasma weapon at her, and she ducked just in time. She knew she couldn't run. Without an order, the Grunts swarmed out around the Elite and chased her down. She felt them jump on her legs and wrap their little bodies around her – successfully weighing her down. Renee stumbled and fell.

"Kill her, kill her, kill her!" The Grunts began to chant as they continued to keep their hold on her. She realized they were chanting this to the Elite, who was approaching with its plasma rifle at the ready. Quickly thinking, Renee cried out and managed to elbow one Grunt in the face as she tried to be rid of the pestilent beasts. The blow knocked its mask off, and a cloud of methane gas began to gush out into the air and the Grunt panicked, and fumbled to put its mask on as it began to breathe in the toxic oxygen. The Elite roared angrily at him, it was probably displeased in the Grunts' pathetic antics.

In the confusion and cloud of methane, Renee covered her mouth and tore herself free from the Grunts, got to her feet, and spotted the assault rifle, not far away. She ran to it, and heard the Elite's frustrated roars as it tried to get through the crowd of stupid Grunts as they tried to help their asphyxiating comrade, who still was running around in dazed circles trying to find its mask.

Somehow in the confusion of the last two minutes, Renee had managed to split open her lip and the taste of blood in her mouth made her nauseous. She could feel the stickiness all over her chin and around her mouth as she grabbed up the assault rifle, but she assured herself quickly that it was her just her lip, and that one of her teeth hadn't been lost.

She whipped around confidently, staggering momentarily with dizziness, and pulled the trigger. An onslaught of bullets peppered the Grunts and the Elite. It didn't take much for the Grunts to fall, but the Elite groaned and shot at her as its shields were brought down. She wasn't able to dodge quickly enough and felt the hot burning sensation as a plasma beam grazed her shoulder – a split second where her clothes were burned, her skin was literally melted. She let out a cry, and one handedly wielded the assault rifle, clasping her wound with the other hand. The Elite shot at her again, but she was able to duck. Not once did she take her finger off the trigger.

The last of the Elite's shields dissipated in a shimmering flash. The bullets now penetrated its leathery skin and armor, and with a low growl, the defeated alien dropped its weapon to the ground – but it didn't collapse. Renee stopped firing, and watched as the dying Elite just stood there and looked at her. It stumbled forward, but Renee knew it had no weapon – but in a split second she knew it would've been better if she shot it.

The Elite stumbled right on her, collapsed right into her arms, its big head resting on her chest. Renee let out a little shriek, and could only watch as the Elite's eyes darted from her face to her nameplate. It muttered something, its jaws moving irregularly, in a language she didn't understand. Then, she watched the life go from its eyes, and the deadweight – three hundred pounds of dead alien, was too much for already-dizzied Renee to take. She lost her balance and fell, and the dead alien came with her, pinning her to the ground.

Renee made a disgusted noise, and attempted to shove the body off of her.

"Oh, for fuck sakes!" she muttered.

"Renee!" she heard a familiar voice and it was like music to her ears. She looked to see John come running towards her, assault rifle in hand. She watched as he quickly surveyed the scene, piecing together what must've happened.

"Get this thing off of me!"

John quickly dragged the alien body off, and threw it aside. Renee was attempting to wipe the purple blood off her uniform, but wasn't succeeding very well. The blood smelled different than human blood, it smelled horrible. She had to exercise all of her control not to gag. John kneeled down beside her, and took her face in his hands, examining her. She stared back into his mirrored visor, getting nothing but her own battered reflection.

"Look at you," he said, "You're beaten up."

"I'll be alright," Renee replied, shuddering, "I managed to kill them."

"You're a mess," John told her softly as if she already didn't know. He traced the cut on her lip, and then moved up to trace a slice across her left cheek. She winced.

"Is there a cut?" she asked.

"Yes, it looks pretty deep," John answered seriously.

"I didn't even know," she made a face, and then she proceeded to pat down her hair, but only to wince again when she moved her shoulder. John's attentions were drawn to it quickly.

"Plasma burn," he muttered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen to you."

Beneath his helmet, he frowned, his expression stony and bitter.

"It's not your fault. You can't be here for me all the time."

"I can try."

Renee could tell already he was beating himself up for not being there to protect her. She frowned, "Look, John. I can take care of myself. I don't want to be some damsel in distress. You don't have to come to my rescue all the time."

"But you needed me," John told her, "You need me now, you needed me before, you will need me later. It's my own personal goal to do everything I can to protect you. You could've died. That Elite could've easily killed you."

"But it didn't," Renee shook her head.

"Listen, I don't want you arguing with me, I always win anyway. I'm taking you back to the camp and get your wounds treated. If those aliens were close, there's more where they came from."

"That Elite I killed," Renee made a face, "It muttered something before it died, I don't know what – it wasn't in English."

"Probably into its radio," John replied calmly, "I've seen them do it before."

"What do you think it said?" she questioned.

"I'm not sure. Elite's are very patriotic, they might've been praying for something. I've long since given up on trying to understand their logic. Can you walk?"

"I'm dizzy," Renee frowned, "But I think I can"

He didn't listen. John had her swooped up into his arms before she could even protest. He bent to pick her helmet off the ground. She put it back on and wrapped her arms around his neck. He retrieved his own helmet and put it on his head.

"How'd you lose your helmet?" John questioned calmly, as he started to head back down the alleyway.

"The Grunts ganged up on me," Renee sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder plate, "I was tackled by Grunts, beaten up and shot at by an Elite – all in the first ten minutes of the day. What it's like to be me."

"I just believe you're prone to danger," John explained, "I began to realize that when you fell out of the Pelican."

"I'm a burden," Renee rolled her eyes; "You picked the wrong marine."

"I disagree. You're no burden. I wouldn't have anyone else."

* * *

When John arrived back at the camp, he demanded a cot and medical supplies for Renee. He got what he wanted quickly, for once they saw Renee was injured, Troy made sure that what John asked for was given immediately, although it could take a fool to realize he wasn't doing it for John. Despite Renee's wishes, she gained the unwanted attention of everyone in the camp. It was known to everyone that clumsy Renee had once again managed to get herself injured.

As she sat (she didn't listen to John when he told her to lay down) on the cot holding an ice pack to her lip, John proceeded to take care of the rest of her wounds. Amy was there as well, and surprisingly Troy, who sat beside Amy, furthest away from John but closest to Renee as possible.

John, who had told everyone else to be on patrol, was still in his armor, though his helmet and gloves had been removed and carefully set not far out of reach. In place of his armored gloves, he was wearing rubber gloves for sterile purposes. They didn't fit him well at all, for his hands were that large it looked like they were going to break right out of the gloves. He was wiping the cut on Renee's cheek with antiseptic, with the gentleness of a parent and the professionalism of a doctor. His eyes were narrowed for perfection, his thick eyebrows crumpled in concentration, and his mouth hung open a little as he worked. Renee had no problem with the view; she watched his expressions happily, gazing at him as if she was smitten with him for the first time.

Troy didn't care for this at all; Renee knew he must be watching in either disgust or envy, or perhaps a mixture of both. She knew he'd probably love nothing more than to be in John's place at the moment. As for Amy, she was surprisingly silent, for she was usually talking no matter what the situation.

"I can stitch this," John told Renee, glancing up to her eyes, "Although I don't have the appropriate freezing and it would hurt more than I'd like to see you go through…"

"No, just put a bandage on it," Renee replied quickly, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Alright, I'm glad then," John smirked, and then he frowned, "I wouldn't take pleasure in threading a needle through your cheek." With that, he gently stroked her cheek with one finger. His hands smelled like rubber but she didn't mind at all.

Renee heard Troy sigh, and she knew without looking at him that a rolling of the eyes would've accompanied his pitiful sighing. Mute jealousy, she knew it. Amy giggled slightly, and John withdrew his hand, and dug in the first aid kit for a bandage, which he swiftly applied in a moment or less.

"Look at you two with your google eyes," Amy crooned softly, but Renee punched her friend in the arm without looking away from John, who had taken to sharing a gaze with her. After a moment, John cleared his throat.

"Let's look at your shoulder," he said, his voice momentarily croaking. He quickly switched to his professional look, but Renee could help but blush as John reached up and undid the Velcro straps of her Kevlar vest, removed it, and then went about removing her uniform coat underneath, until he had her in just a camo green tank top. He winced when he saw the shoulder wound, and he met her eyes as he got out a wet cloth that was already stained with her blood from her cheek.

"This might hurt a little more," he warned.

Renee momentarily glanced to Amy, and saw she had a big smirk on her face. She winked at her, and then Renee looked back to John, and nodded. He returned the nod, given the permission to continue. Vaguely, Renee's memory flashed back to Reach, in the little clearing, where similar words had been exchanged. Just the thought of it made her blush, and she knew her cheeks reddened. John cleaned the wound, and it burned and stung nearly as ferociously as it did when she first had been shot.

She hissed a breath through her teeth.

"Bullet wounds don't hurt nearly as much," she winced.

"Bullets don't burn flesh," John replied, glancing up to meet her eyes quickly before darting back to the wound, "Plasma, unfortunately, does. You've received a second degree burn, not as serious – the fabric of your clothes protected your skin a little. It's only a minor graze, luckily for you. If it hadn't been, no doubt you would've received severe third degree burns, probably straight to the bone."

"Ugh," Renee made a face, "I can just imagine."

"The thought make you sick?" John questioned calmly, taking out the antiseptic.

"Not necessarily, I just don't know how I'd take to seeing my own bone," she shuddered.

"I have several times," John wasn't reserved about sharing his own experiences, "Once, when our Spartan armor was in its earlier developmental stages, I caught a plasma beam right to the chest. It melted through the titanium alloy, through the hydrostatic gel, right into my skin. Didn't think much of it at first, as we are trained to generally ignore pain, but when I got back and performed a self-examination, I could see two of my ribs, plain as day, and I had to receive an emergency skin graft. Remind me sometime to show you the scar."

"Out of the many that you have," Renee smiled slightly.

"Utterly defacing," Troy muttered, but they ignored him.

"Lieutenant Fisher," John said, not looking away from Renee's shoulder as he applied the antiseptic, "Speaking of plasma burns, how's yours?"

"Fine," Troy sniffed. He didn't say any more than that. John remained to be tauntingly polite.

"Well that's good," he answered, "I know we'd have ourselves a problem if you were handicapped. I take it wasn't that serious then?"

"No," Troy replied shortly, "No worse than Renee's."

John nodded, and said nothing more. He proceeded to wrap Renee's wound with bandages, ever so carefully. His gentleness was amazing, and Renee guessed that even Troy was surprised at how placid John could be. Amy was smiling, and she remarked softly,

"Cute."

"I wouldn't call it that," John surprisingly answered with a smirk, "I'd just call it adequately gentle." He looked up to her with a big smile, showing his teeth momentarily.

"Not the first time you've been adequately gentle, I would guess," Amy said, holding back a giggle, "Am I right?"

"Mmm," John answered, keeping himself composed, though Renee was sure that he got what she was aiming towards, the specific event on Reach. He raised an eyebrow, "I'm never rough with Renee, she's too fragile."

"If she was a Spartan, would you be as gentle?" Amy chirped instantly.

"Well no, considering if she was a Spartan, she'd be as strong as me, and able to withstand the same amount of things I can, but considering she's not and never will be, I will continue to exercise my cautiousness with her, Amy," John kept his face absolutely professional. Renee almost laughed. She momentarily glanced to Troy, and saw his expression was so sour looking that he mind-as-well have put a whole lemon in his mouth. Although she couldn't be sure if the innuendo Amy so cleverly added in was obvious to him or not, Renee could tell that either way Troy wasn't pleased. He'd been that way ever since he'd seen John carrying her wounded back into the camp.

"Help me put my clothes back on," Renee said quietly to John, "I'm not sure if I should try and move my shoulder that much."

"Of course," John quickly obliged and helped her get her uniform and vest back on faster than anyone else could have. His hands basically flew across the buttons and the Velcro. Amy watched in amazement and Troy with the same mute jealousy and the dull expression on his already gloomy looking face. Amy surprisingly turned to face Troy and announced:

"Wish it was you doing that?"

"Pssh, no," Troy scoffed, "Robot-man can have her."

Renee took a moment to give Troy a weird look, and then she turned to help John put the supplies back into the first aid kit. John took off the rubber gloves with two snaps, and surprisingly the rubber didn't break. He flexed his fingers, and then tossed the gloves onto the cot. He looked up to Renee.

"Do you think you can continue?" he questioned, "Or would you like to rest? Wait, I shouldn't even ask. I think the latter would be the best option for you."

"And slow everyone down?" Renee retorted, "No, I don't need to rest, John. I'm fine. Just give me a shot of morphine."

He looked at her for a long time, as if he was trying to convince her otherwise with his eyes, but after a long beat he nodded and reached for the first aid kit again, and took out a sterilized package which contained the needle, and got another clear package that had the syringe. He ripped the syringe package open, meanwhile holding the other package in his teeth carefully. Setting the syringe aside, he asked Renee to get the bottle of morphine. He assembled the needle, and then took the bottle of morphine from Renee, injected the needle and measured out the correct dose.

"I don't know how good I am when it comes to giving needles," John said, his voice muffled for he held the empty package in between his teeth, "But, I'll be as gentle as possible." He paused to flick the needle professionally, and a few specks of the medicine shot from the tip. He gestured towards her, but she had already begun to roll up her sleeve.

"Oh, I hate needles," Amy shook her head, looking away. Troy made a face at her, but she exclaimed, "Cover my eyes Troy."

Troy did as he was told and didn't complain, though he rolled his eyes.

John went to put the needle in Renee's arm, but he glanced up when he saw she was watching intently.

"You won't get faint?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Renee shook her head.

"Renee!" shrieked Amy, "Don't look, for God's sake! Are you masochistic or what?"

John took a deep breath and steadied his hand, and then put the needle in Renee's arm, injected the medicine with a flick of his thumb, and then pulled it out. Instantly, he looked to Renee's face.

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

"I hardly felt it," Renee looked amazed, and she smiled at him, "You really _are _good at everything."

Amy, since the needle-injecting was all over, let out a big snort, and then slapped Troy's hand away from her eyes, not even thanking him for aiding her. Troy frowned again and sighed. Renee looked to him for a moment, rubbing her arm thoughtfully. He wasn't even talking – she wondered why he was even bothering to stick around. She realized though, it was because of her.

She glanced down to where John had given her the needle. It wasn't even bleeding. She smiled up at him.

"Thanks."

"No prob…" John began but then all of a sudden, there was a loud explosion from the far side of the camp. Everyone whipped around, and John shot up, putting on his gloves and helmet. Renee jumped to her feet along with Amy and Troy.

"What's going on!" she demanded, but then the marines that had been on patrol came running down the alleyway into the clearing. Two marines were dragging one marine behind them by the arms. From what they could see from that distance, the marine was covered in blood.

"COVENANT INVASION!" bellowed the first marine.

Everyone didn't even wait for orders, they all scrambled to their feet to get weapons and find cover. John snatched up his assault rifle, knocking over the first aid kit in the rush.

"Stay here," he told Renee, and broke off into a run before Renee could even stop him. She watched him go, and then worriedly exchanged glances with Troy and Amy. Troy looked ghostly pale as he turned his attention towards the marine the two others were dragging towards him. The marines were covered in dirt and blood, but the marine they were carrying looked far worse. Troy rushed to the marine's side.

"It's O'Riley," one of the marines said as Troy dropped to his knees beside him.

In the distance, plasma weapons could be heard firing. Renee looked up to the alleyway and saw John was already running down it. He was going to try and intercept them before they even arrived. A lump formed in her throat, and she glanced back down to Henry, who looked absolutely unsightly. Amy, who didn't care for blood, had to turn away. His entire right arm was missing, and he was covered in blood, she wasn't even sure where it was coming from, there was so much of it.

"God, what happened to him!" Troy shouted, looking panicked. His shaking hands scrambled to undo the buttons to feel for a pulse, "O'Riley! O'Riley, this is Lieutenant Fisher, can you hear me!" He got no response. He felt for a pulse, and got none. Distraught, Troy let out a yell of frustration.

"Dammit!" he cried wildly, and Troy looked back up to the two marines, and repeated, louder this time, "I asked you, what the hell happened to him!"

The two marines were pale, and one of them struggled to open their mouth. The word slipped right out breathlessly, a word that no one wanted to hear.

"Hunters, sir."


	35. Taking Its Toll

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**[May 6****th**** 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System ****–**** Hydra]**

'Kolsamee relished the last words his dying comrade Iol 'Lozaiomee had spoken to him. He could tell by the pain in his voice as it came over his radio that death was coming to him. His mouth sounded like it was full of blood; his breaths could be heard in gasping, weak intervals in-between words. Although 'Kolsamee was struck with the guilt and loss of a fellow soldier, the critically important news 'Lozaiomee had managed to pass on to him before he died made him feel thrilled. 'Kolsamee would make sure 'Lozaiomee's kin would not go unnoticed, that they would be awarded with the honor of Iol's heroic aid. By delivering the news, the general location of the human girl Renee, Iol had done something greater than he'd probably known. He'd just made 'Kolsamee's job of finding her and the Spartan, a whole lot easier.

Though 'Kolsamee was currently troubled, for he knew the Covenant were launching an attack on the area in which the female marine had been reported. If anyone – whether purposely or by accident – killed her, or John (though 'Kolsamee believed the latter task no one but himself was capable of), he would see to it that the one who had killed them would be executed themselves.

He had been on this mission too long to allow his chances to slip through his fingers and let some Grunt or Minor Domo steal his glory away from him with just a lucky shot. His job was to kill the Spartan and kill the girl, and kill whoever else may get in his way. If he was in a particularly good mood, 'Kolsamee might just kill anyone directly or indirectly involved, anyone within a mile radius of his two targets. He was growing tired of all this waiting, and felt the rage building up inside of him as the seconds ticked on by. Letting out a growl, he turned on his radio to 'Malnoonee.

"Who is in charge of launching the attack on the North area of the city!" snarled 'Kolsamee.

A few seconds passed before he got a response.

"I'm not sure exactly, but someone of higher standing, with years of experience and talent, 'Kolsamee," 'Malnoonee replied calmly, "I can tell you are angered by this. Why ever so?"

"I've just received a radio from Iol 'Lozaiomee," 'Kolsamee breathed, "As he was dying. He told me he found the Spartan's female. She's in the area that's currently under attack! If anyone else but me kills her or that damned Spartan, I will have their throats personally! I will gut them and behead them without a second thought! Surely you know what pride I take in my assignment, 'Malnoonee! And then some idiot risks my chances of success by launching an attack? I'm not even near! I intercepted a few radio channels, and when I found this out, I was enraged! I'm furious!"

"Calm yourself, clear your mind," 'Malnoonee answered, "I am sure they can take care of themselves. You worry now? It isn't a large group that's attacking."

"There are Mgalekgolo! Two! And you know how reckless those big lumbering fools are! They know nothing of my mission, or my targets! They could kill them and not know! This is jeopardizing my entire work so far, all of my time I've put into this planned assassination!" 'Kolsamee bellowed.

"Mind your tongue, 'Kolsamee," 'Malnoonee snapped, "I will not listen to you if you start yelling in my ear."

"Call them off," 'Kolsamee demanded, softer this time, "You can. Call them off. Or send a drop ship to pick me up and take me there. I can get it done right now if it pleases you, then we can glass this pathetic place and be gone!"

"No," 'Malnoonee replied, "I'm not sending you in there. Let them come to you, I want you to wait until the human numbers dwindle – which they undoubtedly will with the Mgalekgolo attending the battle. Then, it would be less conflict for you, less weaklings to deal with."

"You think me incapable of dealing with a few extra humans!" 'Kolsamee scoffed, "Don't offend me so, 'Malnoonee! I can snap their necks, I can shred them to pieces with ease – sitting down for dinner takes more effort!"

"I've given you orders. I expect you to follow them, you are wasting your time trying to convince me otherwise," 'Malnoonee told him, "I don't want to hear from you until the assassination has been done."

There was a buzz of static as he turned off the radio, and 'Kolsamee sighed, and switched his own off as well. Some things were so frustrating. Momentarily, he was tempted to put his fist through a wall, but decided against it.

As he leaned back silently against the wall, 'Kolsamee found himself for the first and only time hoping that in this situation, the humans would be victorious, and the smallest amount of deaths would occur as possible – and that the Spartan and his female would stay alive long enough to meet their death by his hands, not anyone else's.

* * *

When Renee heard the word Hunters she felt dread run through her. Out of all the species of Covenant, the Hunters were the only ones she hadn't come into contact with in person. Photos shown to her while she was in training provided the only idea of what she should expect. She wracked her brain and remembered with horror that the Hunters were the twelve feet tall, armor covered giants armed with fuel rod cannons – weapons that could easily blow a human being to pieces with one shot.

She felt her stomach flip, knowing that John was running to face them, just like he had run into battle so many times before. Was this different? Had he battled Hunters before? How would he destroy them? They were double his height and triple his size. That's when she remembered she'd first seen John with the rocket launcher. He'd come to their rescue using that weapon. Maybe, just maybe, he could destroy them with that – but John had run down that alleyway with nothing but his assault rifle, pistol and a few grenades.

Where was it?

Renee quickly scanned the area around her – standing still compared to everyone else in the camp. Amy thought she was spacing out, and said something to her, but Renee held up a finger for her to stop. Amy shut up without question. That's when Renee spotted the rocket launcher, propped up against a tree trunk not far away. Without a word, she ran forward, slinging her assault rifle over her shoulder, and grabbing up the rocket launcher. It was brutally heavy, but Renee knew she had to get it to John. From behind her, she heard Troy, who was still upset over the death of Henry:

"Renee! What the _hell _are you doing!"

"Taking the rocket launcher to John!" Renee shouted, not bothering to look back. She was headed for the alleyway, when she saw a blur go flying through the air. When the blur crashed into the wall of the alley, Renee saw it was John. He slid to the ground, his assault rifle missing. He shook his head, and was up on his feet in a split second, and was running – back towards her. Where John had been seconds ago, a large green beam hit the wall, melting it into a bunch of goo.

"BACK!" John bellowed, not just at her, "EVERYONE GET BACK. FIND COVER, NOW!"

Renee blinked, and looked past him running, to the alleyway. A great shadow came around the corner, and then a body just as big. She was horrified at the sight of the Hunter. It was huge, covered in armor, and lumbered along as it walked. Visible in slight places between its blue plated armor was an ugly fleshy orange, and it had large spikes coming from it back. The fuel rod cannon, was charging up – a sickening green appearing in the barrel. That's when she felt John's body collide with hers – a bone-jarring contact of titanium alloy armor. She was knocked clean right off her feet and crashed to the ground, John lying low over her. Protecting her, she realized in a split second. The air sparked above them, and she looked up past his shoulder and saw the same green beam go shooting perilously close to John's head.

She'd barely been on the ground before she felt herself being swept up. She struggled to hold onto the rocket launcher, which had been jammed right into her chest when John had jumped on her. Renee knew John was running without even having to look. She heard a low gurgling growl, and knew it came from the Hunter.

John deposited her behind the same piece of concrete she and the marines had first taken cover behind. Amy, Troy and the others were already there.

"Stay here, and don't come out, no matter what happens!" John told her, "Listen to Troy. He's got the orders."

"Here, take this," Renee said numbly, holding the rocket launcher out to him. He grabbed it swiftly, muttering a thank you, and then he was gone, back out into the battle field.

_No matter what happens_. The words echoed in her ears.

"He's gonna take those things on by himself!" Amy demanded, looking to Renee as if she could do something about it. Renee's mouth hung open, hardly believing it herself.

"He's crazy," Troy said, "We all know that by now."

"Damn crazy!" Josh agreed, "But some damn brave."

John ran forward a few paces, then stopped, just like the two Hunters before him had. The two beasts shuffled a little to the side, their armor plates clunking against one another as they moved. It reminded John of a couple of crabs, but very large, very deadly crabs. He quickly surveyed the scene. Neither of them was making a move to attack yet. They were waiting for him, he knew it.

John took a step towards them, and they responded. He saw their spikes bristle, and he knew the game was on. Their two fuel rod cannons charged, and discharged with a whoosh, sending two green beams hurling towards him. He leaped several feet into the air, and felt the heat as the scorching beams passed beneath him. John came down, his foot ready. It made contact with the left Hunter's head – although John knew upon impact that it wouldn't have much of an effect.

The Hunter merely groaned, and swiftly brought up its big shielded arm – and smashed into John as he was still airborne. John felt his entire body racked with the blow, pain shooting through him – and he was propelled backwards. He did a backwards spiral and crashed into the dirt, the rocket launcher landing a few feet away. The angered Hunter lumbered toward him, and lifted its foot, wanting to give him a payback. John rolled just as its foot slammed into the ground, and rolled again as it brought its other foot down – each stomp making the ground shake around him.

John scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain that spider-webbed across his chest. However, this Hunter wasn't slow. The alien turned swiftly on him despite its size, and made another successful swipe at John. There was a loud clang as John's armor gnashed against the shield on the Hunter's arm, and the force jarred John's bones. He stumbled backwards, but was able to remain standing this time; he was seeing spots, overcome with a sudden wave of dizziness. John felt his stomach churn, like he was going to be sick. He took several quick steps backward to get away from the Hunter – which wasn't going to wait for him. John pushed his pain from his mind, and managed to dodge another swipe. With a blur, John whipped his pistol from his belt. He wasn't going to be this alien's beating object anymore.

The Hunter, upon seeing the drawn weapon, growled again, and made a surprising leap towards him. This shocked John, for he never knew the Hunter would be able to propel itself in such away.

The unforgiving Hunter swung again at him, but John dodged, making a full circle around behind it. His eyes spotted the exposed back of the alien, the churning and quivering orange worms – and he raised his pistol, and emptied an entire clip into its back before it could even turn. Bright orange, sticky blood sprayed all over John, and the Hunter collapsed with a deafening thud right onto its face, emitting one last shuddering growl before it died.

There was a cheer from the marines, and John could pick Renee's out from the rest of them. His eyes flickered to his motion tracker, where the red blip that represented the second Hunter was motionless behind him. That's when he heard the charging of the fuel rod cannon, and Renee's scream.

"LOOK OUT!"

John threw himself to the ground, and felt the heat passing just over his head, but as well, he felt the tremors of the Hunter charging towards him, and he was lying on the ground. John barely had time to think of what a bad predicament he was in before he felt its large foot curve right beneath his chest, delivering a vicious kick that sent the breath flying from his lungs, and undoubtedly breaking a couple of his ribs. Pain spider-webbed once again across his chest as he felt his body catapulting through the air. John saw the world wildly spinning, and felt his limbs loose as a ragdolls – he felt like a human grav-ball. As he crashed into the ground several feet away, John heard Renee scream in horror, and then something yelled from both Amy and Troy. He knew that they were both probably trying to hold her back from running to him.

"Stay here, damn you!" John heard Troy shouting.

John choked with the lack of air, his chest feeling tight, but he forced himself up to his feet. He saw a commotion from behind the concrete – Troy and Amy both wrestling Renee to the ground. Then Josh called, "He's back up!" and he heard some cheers.

John couldn't focus on that for more than a second. He sucked in a few breaths into his burning lungs, and looked down to his empty hands and back up to the Hunter, that was doing that crab shuffle again, lurking around him like a shark. Its spines were quivering, no doubt with anger. He'd killed its partner.

"The rocket launcher, John!" Renee called, "The rocket launcher!"

John looked past the Hunter, and saw the rocket launcher lying on the ground fifty feet behind it. If he could only get past the alien without it hitting him – he knew that if he got whacked again, it might collapse his entire rib cage. And that would not be good. Not even a Spartan would be able to stay standing long with that injury.

John let out a yell, and ran towards the Hunter. This surprised the creature, and it growled, raising an arm to hit him, but John jumped just as its arm was making the deadly sweep. His foot landed on the Hunter's arm, and there was a split second where he was standing there, but he tensed his muscles, and jumped again, sailing over the Hunter's head. He crashed to the ground, but bolted forward, swept the rocket launcher up off the ground, turned on a dime, aimed and… _whoosh_.

Just as the Hunter was turning, still surprised by his move, a rocket caught it right in the chest. There was an explosion, a cloud of smoke and a spray of blood. When the dust settled, the Hunter was lying right on its back, its body smoking. Burned and tattered orange flesh lay across the ground around it, and a large pool of matching orange blood.

John let the empty rocket launcher fall from his hands, and for a moment, he battled a wave of dizziness. His head was pounding, his wounds throbbing, his entire body aching. He heard cheers from the marines, but it was a background buzz in his mind. That's when his knees gave out.

"Oh shit, he's down!" he heard Josh yell, as John allowed himself fell gently to his knees. He wavered for just a moment, and then lowered his head until he looked like he was praying. He heard not one, but several sets of footsteps come running to him.

"John!" he heard Renee above everyone else, her voice shrill with worry. He saw shadows as everyone crowded around him. John didn't move, he just focused on pushing aside the pain and regaining his breath. His mouth was slick with blood, but dry of saliva. He was so thirsty all of a sudden.

"Gimme a minute," he muttered, his voice sounding noticeably thick with the blood. He allowed it to drip out of his mouth, where he knew it would drip out through his air ventilators onto the ground. He felt Renee's hand on his shoulder.

"John, are you alright!" she demanded. John didn't want to answer her, he didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to tell the truth either. It'd only worry her. He wasn't fine. He wasn't sure how many of his bones were broken. He kept trying to push the pain out of his mind. To answer Renee's question, John just made a gesture with his head that wasn't intelligible as either a nod or a shake.

"Guard the perimeter!" He heard Troy yell, "No one let your damned guard down! There's more around, that isn't the last of 'em!"

John raised his head ever so cautiously, and took in Renee's worried face inches from his. She had been leaning close, and she leaned back a little, her eyes searching in his mirrored visor. He knew it must be frustrating her for not to see his face, or his expression. It was for the best, though.

She exchanged glances with Amy, who was kneeling silently beside her, and then she reached forward to remove his helmet. In an instant, John stopped her, shoving her hands away. She hesitated, and looked at him.

"Don't," John told her, "It's not safe…"

"How bad are you hurt under there?" she asked him softly.

"I've had worse," John replied, coughing.

"You're in no condition to keep fighting!" Renee pleaded.

"I have to," John told her, and he didn't wait for anyone's help. He got to his feet, and Renee and Amy jumped to theirs seconds later.

"I don't believe you're alright," Amy spoke up for the first time, looking into his visor seriously, "We all saw you, how that Hunter kicked you – and you must've been at least fifteen feet in the air."

"It was crazy," Troy interjected, and both Renee and Amy looked to him, "Heroic, but damn crazy." There was a moment's silence, and then Troy held out his assault rifle to John, "You're going to need a weapon, if there are more of those bastards to fight."

"I'll find another," John shook his head.

"Look, damn you, it's not mine. It was Henry's," Troy's face contorted into sadness at the mention of him, but hardened instantly, "Now take it. That's an order."

John had just taken the assault rifle from Troy's hand when his eyes flashed to his motion tracker. Off, in the same area where the Hunters had come from, was a single, large red dot. Not a second later, more red dots came into range, smaller ones. Infantry, he guessed … and that one large dot… a drop ship?

No.

That's when John heard a soaring sound, and he looked up to the sky, to see a sizzling blue ball of plasma come arcing across the rooftops, descending rapidly on their camp. A Wraith mortar. He snapped into action, grabbing a hold of both Renee and Amy. He heard the surprised screams from everyone, a mixture of surprise and fear as everyone scattered like ants. John dragged the two effortlessly, yelling as the mortar plummeted down towards them.

"GET DOWN!" he bellowed, and threw himself and the two girls onto the ground, trying to protect both of them as much as possible with his body. Renee and Amy screamed as there was a loud explosion not far from them, and the ground shook. He felt a blast of heat, and he heard Amy and Renee both exclaiming on it. He knew that they'd be feeling it more than he would, his armor had temperature control, and they didn't. John glanced to his side just to see Troy stumble down next to them, staring back over his shoulder in horror.

There was an empty silence as the last sizzling evidence of the Wraith mortar dissipated into the air and the ground. John half sat up, and Amy and Renee were eager to do the same, but they both looked pale and scared. When John looked over his shoulder, a large, almost perfect circular indentation was in the asphalt – nearly fifteen feet wide in diameter. Marines were scattered out all around it, and from what John could see, no one had been killed.

"Is that it?" Amy spoke up, exchanging glances with Renee and Troy, and then looking up to John, who meekly shook his head.

"No," he answered.

The same sound echoed from the other side of the alley way, and this time, not one but two mortars came soaring over the rooftops – one to the left, one to the right. John snapped into action again, pulling the two girls to their feet and moving them further, huddling them into a corner between two buildings. Renee covered her ears as the two mortars crashed into the ground, shaking it. This time, John heard screams – and knew that this time the Covenant got lucky.

The two mortars had made a couple more scars into the ground, and in both of them, John saw the melted and mangled bodies of marines. His stomach flipped – as he saw that some of them were in pieces. The stench of blood was thick in the air. The remaining marines – there were very few – peeked out from behind whatever cover they'd managed to find.

"Oh, God, no!" a shout came from across the clearing. John looked, and hadn't seen him there the first time, but he recognized the kneeling figure was Troy. Renee and Amy, who instantly recognized his voice alone, jumped to their feet.

"Shit!" Amy cried, and before John could stop either of them, they both ran towards Troy.

John got up and followed them, preparing himself for whatever he might see. Troy didn't sound injured, but he didn't seem to be the type who would allow themselves to.

As John came up behind Amy and Renee, who were standing silently over Troy, who lay kneeling in a pool of blood – that he soon realized wasn't his own.

"Oh," Amy said weakly, and turned away from the scene, her hands covering her face. Renee however stood not moving, and when John saw the situation, he understood clearly why. She was shocked, and so was he.

Troy, with his uniform and hands covered in blood, hand his arm around Kirk, who was dead. Kirk's eyes were wide and staring, but they saw nothing. He was covered in blood, and had a huge gaping hole in his abdomen. Troy just stared at his friend, his mouth hanging open slightly, his face paler than John's.

There was a dead silence.

"Lieutenant Fisher," John began.

"He's dead," Troy said, his voice sounding far-off.

Renee swallowed a lump in her throat. Kirk had been one of Troy's best friends since elementary school. She'd known him since then, as well. They'd been in the same class in grade primary. Although she felt sad, she felt mostly shock. This was the first time she'd lost someone partially close to her. She felt sick for Troy, and couldn't imagine what he was feeling at that same moment.

"LT!" Josh called, wandering towards him, not aware of what had happened to Kirk, "There's something you should…" he trailed off when he saw the scene, "Oh no. This is too bad, too bad, man." Josh had already been upset when he'd walked towards them, and when Renee saw that he was trying to hold back tears, she felt another pang of worry. Someone else had died.

Troy looked up to Josh slowly, setting Kirk's body gently down on the pavement.

"Where's Blaine?" Troy asked sharply.

Renee could tell by the look on Josh's face that this wasn't going to be good. Josh just bit his lip and shook his head. Troy, who allowed his anger to come through, to cleverly hide his sadness, got to his feet, and repeated, louder, "Where's Blaine!"

"He's dead." Josh answered in a small voice. The words almost choked him up.

Troy made a noise that at first sounded like a laugh, but they all quickly realized it was his version of an angry sob. He raised his hand to his mouth, but stopped when he remembered there was blood on it. As Troy looked at his bloody hands, he let his head fall forward onto his chest, hunching his shoulders and turning away from everyone.

Renee sucked in a shaky breath, and looked from Troy, to Josh, to Amy, then up to John's visor. She knew that even underneath it John would be no doubt perfectly composed. She, however, felt the sadness welling up inside of her. Although Blaine and Kirk had been jerks, they hadn't always been that way. Same as Troy hadn't always been a jerk. On several occasions, when she had been dating Troy, she, Troy, Blaine, Kirk, Josh and their girlfriends at the time had gone to the movies. That was before everything had gone to hell.

And strangely enough, those memories were the ones that were the most vivid at the moment. Renee wanted to cry, for she felt sorry for Troy, sorry for Josh, and sorry that Kirk and Blaine had to get killed.

Amy made the first move. She walked towards Josh with open arms, and didn't even have to ask for a hug. He hugged her tightly, and Amy muttered something. The two of them had been pretty good friends in childhood as well. Renee knew John wouldn't mind, so she gave Josh a hug too. The hug made her want to cry even more, they had ways of doing that, but she managed to hold back her tears.

"Too many good times with them we had," Josh said lowly, sadly.

"I'm so sorry," Renee told him, and then the hug ended.

She turned to look at Troy, and saw Amy hadn't hugged him. She was standing beside her, and Renee knew that she figured it wasn't a good time to bother Troy, even to try and give him a hug. He was standing there, not moving, his hands still outstretched palms up.

Then, suddenly, he dropped to his knees again. His shoulders shook for a moment, as if he was crying, but his arm snapped out and he grabbed Kirk's assault rifle, and silently got to his feet, turning towards the alley way.

John knew why. Troy wasn't stupid. On his motion tracker, the little red dots that had clustered around the Wraith were now approaching them. They were engaging a fight.

"They're coming," Troy said, his voice quivering for only a moment. He glanced back over his shoulder and made honest eye contact with Renee and Amy. His eyes were watery, like he was trying not to cry, "Let's set up, guns pointed at that alleyway. As soon as they start coming, open fire. We'll have them in a good position. Let's kill those Covenant bastards, marines!"

The other remaining marines – there were four, including Luke, came rushing over to join the group. The entire group took several steps towards the alleyway, and then lay down in the craters left by the mortars, dispersing themselves among the three. John, Renee, Amy, Troy and Josh were in the middle crater. The ground was still warm on their stomachs.

"You have the motion tracker, John," Troy said lowly, calling him by his name for the first time in a while, "Where are they?"

"Turning the corner in three," John counted down, taking aim, "Two. One."

He was right on count. The Covenant rounded the corner, Elites bolting down the alleyway with Grunts and Jackals clustered in amongst their feet. Troy didn't have to tell everyone to open fire. John killed the first Elite with a clean shot right through the brain cavity. It dropped to the ground, never even knowing what hit it. The rest of the aliens poured out of the alleyway, but were peppered with rounds. The Grunts didn't last long at all – but the Jackals used their trusty shields to creep forward. More Covenant poured down the alleyway, the Grunts easily slaughtered – but the Elites were swift and the Jackals prepared.

They managed to return fire on the marines, but it was harder since they were all in positions low to the ground. The Elites darted around trees and shouted orders, shooting when they could. The Jackals sent fully charged plasma pistol shots out from behind their shields. There was a scream from one marine as he got hit with one right in the head and was immediately killed.

John could tell, even as he was killing every alien he shot at, that they could not stay here much longer. The Covenant had a pinpoint on their location and it was time to move. Either that or die. He kept an eye on Renee, who was lying beside him, aiming for headshots carefully with her pistol. He had once thought her lucky, but today so far it seemed she hadn't much at all. Perhaps his luck would compensate for hers, if he could keep her safe and manage to get everyone out of here.

He turned to Troy, who was angrily lying on the fire with the assault rifle – almost at a point where it was mindless shooting. He hardly took his finger off the trigger, which was a plain insight to his anger and sadness he must be feeling. Everyone in the UNSC knew that the longer you held down the trigger on the MA5B, the more the bullets would scatter, thus shoving the chances of inaccuracy higher than normal, even if you had a good aim.

John leaned towards him, and said, "Lieutenant!"

Troy either didn't hear him or ignored him purposely. John was impatient, so he grabbed Troy and yanked him down out of the Covenant's range of fire. Troy rolled onto his side, the assault rifle cutting off just as he used up the last of the clip. He frowned at John.

"What, Spartan?" he snapped, as he fumbled one handedly to get a new clip from his belt.

"We have to move," John told him, "Or else we'll be surrounded and killed. I know the Covenant's tactics. We're sitting ducks if we just stay here. You think they'll just come from that one alleyway?"

"I'm no coward," Troy frowned.

"It's not being cowardly," John snapped, "Surely you know that. You want Josh or Amy, or Renee to be next? We've already lost three quarters of the original squads!"

At this, John knew he'd hit a nerve. Troy slapped the clip into his assault rifle, and looked at him, then to the few marines left around them. He was silent for a moment, then looked to John again and nodded.

"Good decision," John said, and he opened a COM channel with all the marines, "Listen up. We can't stay here. We're going to have to get up, and run for it. Don't stop firing, but run. On my count."

John fired his assault rifle, and killed a Grunt.

"Three, two…" he took down a Jackals shield and killed it with a blast to the head, "One. Go, go, go!" John jumped up first, quickly grabbing Renee's hand. He dragged her to her feet, and ran, leading the way. Amy, Troy and the others weren't far behind. He heard Renee yell something about speed, and knew that he was running so fast her feet were probably only touching the ground every few steps. He paused, crouched, and she got on his back wordlessly. Then they started running again, down a side alleyway, and the sounds of fire dwindled away as they ran further.

"Don't stop!" Troy called, "Keep running!"

They ran for several minutes, not stopping for a moment. John of course was several feet ahead of everyone else, and he heard Renee's heavy breathing as she held onto him. He guessed that she'd probably prefer to run herself, but he wasn't going to take a chance with her. All he needed was something to go wrong, a stray plasma shot, and it could kill her.

John would've preferred to keep running, but he realized that the marines weren't nearly as physically able as he. Troy stopped and ran into a building. The front window had been shot out and the inside walls were blackened, and John guessed it was the work of a plasma rifle.

"Five minute rest," Troy said as everyone walked into the building quickly. John had to duck especially low, so he wouldn't hit his head or Renee's on the doorframe. When the remaining marines were clustered together in the room, John was able to count them, and the number shocked him. Excluding himself, there was Troy, Renee, Amy, Josh, and Luke. Five. There had been over twenty before this whole thing started.

John let Renee down off his back, and she silently walked over and sat down on a half burned couch. The building must have been a business place, like broker's offices or something of the like, for it could be seen that before the Covenant invasion, the room had been furnished to the T – something that kind of made everyone feel like home, besides John, who never knew such a thing.

"Is this all that's left?" Troy asked, spinning in a circle to look around the whole room, "Six of us? Six! What the hell?"

Amy silently sat down beside Renee on the couch, and Josh and Luke quietly sat on the floor. John stood by the doorway, watching Troy. His actions alone made John realize that Troy was probably ready for a true breakdown. His expression looked stressed, he looked pained, even. He was pale and sweat was all over his face. Dark shadows were clearly visible beneath his eyes. No one answered him, for he didn't miscount and there was no need.

"Oh, shit," Troy muttered, backing up to lean against the nearest wall. He tossed aside his helmet and it clunked to the ground. He ran his fingers through his hair, and dragged them down his face, momentarily looking as if he wanted to gouge his eyes right out of his head or tear his face off altogether. He slid down the wall, dropping the last foot so he landed rather hard on the floor. His hands fell from his face, and just as John predicted, Troy lost it.

He started to sob silently, clenching his teeth. He slammed his head back against the wall, then again, and again, each time making a low thumping noise. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and ran down his dirty face.

Everyone watched in silence. Renee swallowed a lump in her throat, and felt horrible. She hadn't seen Troy cry before, and never thought she would, and to see him crying over the death of his two friends, and the frustration of the entire war, made it much harder to watch. She glanced momentarily to John, who stood by the door, unmoving. She knew his face would probably be poker faced beneath the visor, despite what was going on.

Troy sobbed a few times, truly crying. He raised his hands to his face again, clawing at it.

"Oh, screw it," he sobbed, the word cutting sharply through everyone's ears, "Screw it."

Renee bit her lip, and then looked to Amy, who looked sympathetic for him. She made a gesture towards Troy with her head, giving Renee a look which she understood. She wanted her to go comfort him. Renee momentarily was revolted at the idea, but then she realized it was the least she could do. She looked to John, and he made a slight nod.

Renee took a deep breath, and got up, walked slowly across the room to Troy, and slid down onto the floor beside him. She barely had her hands outstretched in an inviting hug, before Troy let his head fall onto her shoulder, burying his face in her uniform. Renee wrapped her arms around him as she would comfort a child, and only then did Troy really begin to sob.


	36. It Keeps Getting Worse

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

**[May 6****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System - Hydra]**

If consoling Troy bothered John, he never mentioned it. It was generally hard to tell what he thought of the whole idea, for his features were invisible to everyone, his stance was straight, and he didn't move much at all. It was silent in the room as Troy cried, and eventually he grew still, and with a quick check, Amy confirmed that he'd fallen asleep. Renee, who felt the whole weight of him as he leaned against her, didn't complain as she sat on the cold floor. Although she looked slightly uncomfortable as he rested his head against her shoulder, his arm draped around her. He'd fallen asleep from overtiredness, Renee guessed, or maybe he just figured it'd be the best thing to do. However, she wasn't sure that anyone else agreed with that idea. She knew that John would probably be itching to get moving, but in the previous ten minutes of drama, no Covenant interfered.

John was keeping his eye on his motion tracker, and it didn't change, there were just five yellow dots in range, two of them clustered close together – Troy and Renee. When Renee had gone over to comfort the Lieutenant, he hadn't expected for him to fall on her and literally sob on her shoulder. Now that he had cried himself to sleep after spending five quiet minutes in a depressed stupor, Renee was pretty much trapped in that position until he woke up.

He wasn't jealous. John knew that although Troy obviously had feelings for Renee, it hadn't mattered much to him then. He was upset over the deaths of Kirk and Blaine, and the overall failure of the group of marines – which now couldn't exactly be called a group. Six was a small number.

John pitied Troy, for he knew the Lieutenant had been in bad shape and the goings on that had just occurred in the last hour was devastating for him. It was surely pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His emotional breakdown was a stage, and John knew that it wasn't the end. Troy just wouldn't wake up fine and pretend nothing never happened, the memories of seeing Kirk's dead body in his arms and hearing about the likewise death of Blaine would be still vivid in his mind and a huge blow to his morale.

Renee looked at John every once and a while, and the latest one was dramatic – as if she was seeking pity from him to not hate her for doing this. John wouldn't, of course. He still loved her, and nothing would ever change that. At the moment, Renee didn't look her finest. Her face was sweaty and covered in dirt, her hair was stringy and had mostly fallen from the ponytail she'd put it in. In some places it had stuck to her face. She had visible dark circles beneath her eyes, and her bottom lip was swollen despite her efforts earlier. Her uniform was just as dirty as the rest of her, if not dirtier. Blood was caked all around the wound in her shoulder, and specks of alien blood could be seen on her as well, sticking out in its blue and purple hues better than the dark red human blood. John still loved her. Her beauty was still visible beneath all the unflattering dirt and blood. Beauty that she often said didn't exist.

He hadn't kissed her since the night before, and found himself longing for the taste of her lips – despite the situation. Her kisses were soothing, and if he could just manage to have one, he would feel so much better. He had to exercise his self-control, however, and made sure to focus on the situation at hand: dealing with a mentally unstable Lieutenant, protecting the marines, killing the Covenant.

The first part of the situation wasn't as common, but the others were such a normal routine he didn't have to think much of how to make that happen. Making sure Troy didn't do anything rash however, was a different story. Suicide was something John was beginning to fear from Troy. As his attitude wore on it seemed to be more likely of an option he could possibly consider. And that wouldn't be a good thing at all.

John disliked Troy at times, he'd threatened him, and broke his jaw, but he couldn't hate him. Hate was an emotion John reserved for the Covenant, no one else. Troy could be sensible, Troy could be nice, and Troy could be a damn good Lieutenant. The cowardly option of taking his own life was something John hoped he wouldn't choose. It may be an easy way for the person considering it, but it hurt everyone around them. Renee, Amy and Josh would be profoundly devastated.

John's attentions were drawn away from Renee when he saw Luke get to his feet. Luke glanced down to the sleeping Lieutenant, and then up to John, the next highest commanding officer.

"Permission to use the bathroom, sir?" Luke asked.

"Yes," John answered, "Just keep your guard up."

Luke nodded, and then he stepped over Josh's legs and walked out the door. John sighed, and relaxed again. However, Luke wasn't out of the building for two seconds, when all of a sudden a shot echoed through the air.

Everyone jumped, and Troy snapped awake. John knew instantly what had happened.

"Sniper!" John cried.

"Luke's down, Luke's down!" Josh cried, looking out the window. Renee could see it too. She saw Luke lying on his stomach out on the street, not moving. A pool of blood slowly began to spread out around him. He was dead. She glanced down to Troy, but he lifted his head from her shoulder and sat up straight, looking out.

Before anyone could do anything, Troy was up. He had grabbed his assault rifle from the floor, cursed up a storm, and bolted out the door, right into the sniper's line of fire. John made a desperate lunge for the foolish Lieutenant, but once he'd gone beyond the threshold, it was a risk John wasn't going to take.

"Troy, no!" Renee screamed after him, barely able to watch as she saw him go running right into the middle of the street. For a moment, John looked like he was going to bolt out after him, but he didn't.

"Stupid fool!" John simply shouted, "Come back, damn you!"

Renee, Amy, and Josh were all on their feet, their faces pale. They rushed to look out the window, their hearts in their throats. Outside, they heard Troy screaming in anger.

"You bastard! You miserable bastard! Shoot me too, you one miserable fucking bastard!"

Renee could see Troy, standing not too far away from Luke's body in the middle of the street, looking up at the sky, one hand holding the assault rifle, the other hand pointed, his finger jabbed in his own chest. He took off his helmet, and threw it aside, yelling like a madman.

"Come on!" Troy kept on shouting, "You coward! Shoot me!"

"Oh God!" Amy exclaimed, her hand ready to clamp over her eyes. She looked sickly as she peeked out from between her fingers at the assassination waiting to happen.

"Fisher, get the hell in here!" John bellowed, his voice almost ear splitting, "You're going to get yourself…"

He cut off, as a single shot echoed through the air. Renee screamed, and her hands flew to her mouth. Everyone cringed with the shot.

"No!" Amy cried, slowly turning away from the scene, covering her eyes. Renee was so horrified that she couldn't take her eyes off Troy. Seconds passed, and Troy didn't fall. He didn't collapse to the ground with a hole in his head. He stood, standing motionless, clearly bewildered. Had the sniper missed him? His eyes feverishly scanned the rooftops above him, his mouth hanging open. Even from here, Renee could see the sweat covering his pale face. Renee grabbed Amy, who let out a little shriek and shoved her away.

"He's… alive, Amy," Renee whispered.

As the seconds ticked by, and Troy was still standing there alive, John realized that the shot wasn't from a Covenant weapon. The sound wasn't from a beam rifle, or a carbine. It was the sound he'd heard too often. At the same time, he heard the crackling as someone opened a COM channel with him. For a moment, there was rustling of wind, and a familiar voice came through his earpiece.

"Got him first."

John felt his heart, which had been his throat, drop back down to normal level.

"Linda," he exhaled, "You're a Godsend."

"Just doing my part," she replied, "I saw the first marine killed… then I spotted the Jackal. Took him out before he could kill your other guy… but what the hell was that one trying to do? He was in direct line of fire!"

"He's unstable, disturbed. Just had two of his friends die not minutes ago," John answered, peeking out the door and looking up at the high rise buildings, "Where are you?"

"Nowhere you can see me," she replied, "Though I see you. You're looking in the totally wrong direction, John." She laughed slightly, but she was serious again, "I'm sorry about your marine. Well, both of them."

"Thank you," John muttered, letting out a sigh, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She answered, "Keep care of yourself down there. You'd better move your squad. I'll keep you covered for as long as I can from up here."

"Alright, good luck."

"You too."

She signed off, and John sighed again. He turned to look at the shocked faces of Renee, Amy, and Josh.

"Linda?" Renee asked, "She saved him!"

"Yes," John answered, "She's going to cover us while we move to a more secure location. Let's go."

"I'm gonna have a crack at Mr. Suicidal," Amy snapped through clenched teeth, and she was the first one out the door. Renee didn't protest, for she was floored by Troy's behavior as well. Though John had already mentioned it to her, she never had expected for Troy to literally put himself in the sights of a sniper – if Linda hadn't been there, Troy would've been dead. Renee couldn't make sense of it, she couldn't imagine that Troy felt so much dread that he figured the best option was to go and throw himself at the enemy. Maybe, she hoped, it had just been the heat of the moment and he hadn't enough time to think things over clearly, perhaps his rage had blinded his thoughts and he acted upon his anger without even thinking twice.

Renee, John and Josh watched in silence as Amy marched out towards Troy, who still probably wasn't sure what happened. Troy, who was still scanning the buildings, glanced down when he saw Amy come flying over to him. He had barely enough time to do anything before Amy grabbed him by the shirt and began her rant, her signature vulgar language not about to be left out. Though, as soon as Amy opened her mouth, Renee cringed, for she knew there was bound to be some f-bombs.

"Listen here, you little pussy," Amy snapped, her voice excelling to a yell as she went on, "You wanna play that suicidal little coward bullshit with us! What the _fuck _do you think you're trying to do! All of us are feeling just as goddamned miserable as you are; you're not the only fucking one who is screwed up! You're the one whining about keeping up morale, and what do you think it does for us when you go throwing yourself in front of a fucking sniper? You're not going to commit any suicide, Troy, so get that idea the fuck out of your head! You're my friend," Amy let go of him, looking like she was going to cry; "I don't want to lose you over something so stupid!" Her voice faltered, and she looked away from him, wiping at her eyes, "Asshole."

Troy was no doubt affected by Amy's speech, for his mouth was hanging open a little. Guilt slowly made itself visible on his face, and he sighed, avoiding looking at anyone. He kicked the ground, his eyes fixed on it. Renee guessed that, even though she couldn't see his face, John would probably be surprised too, for he hadn't heard Amy rant before. Renee and Josh both had, and it was nothing new, except for Troy to be the recipient. Historically it had been assholes with too much to say. Amy, who was tall for a girl, usually got teased in high school for it. It didn't take much for Amy to explode, despite her deceiving happy moods.

Once, Renee remembered, in grade nine sciences, someone said something about her, and Amy heard them. She got up, knocking over her chair, turned around to face the guy, plainly – and loudly - told him to "go fuck himself sideways" and she confidently marched from the classroom, not to come back for several days. When she finally did, however, no one, even the teacher, mentioned anything about the incident and things went on as normally as they had before it happened.

"Poor Luke," Amy said, changing the conversation. She didn't wait for anyone else; she bent over and took off his dog tags. Josh offered to hold on to them, but she shook her head. With John's help, they solemnly carried Luke's body off the road and put it in the building – using the carpet to cover it respectfully. Renee noticed the seriousness in John as he covered Luke's body; everything he did was with extreme care and respect. Although no one had known Luke very well, they all paid their respects. John made a small speech of him being an honorable hero and a good soldier, and everyone agreed.

Afterwards, Troy, who couldn't yet bare to look anyone directly in the eye, let alone say much, announced that it would probably be best if they got moving. John agreed, stating that even though Linda had them covered, she didn't have every angle.

They left the building, walking out onto the street, where the pool of Luke's blood was visibly bright in the sunlight. Amy shook her head at the sight and had to look away, feeling the dread overwhelming her all over again. Renee didn't even look in that direction. She stood beside John so that his large body blocked most of her view. She looked to Troy, who sheepishly was picking his helmet from the ground where he'd thrown it.

Josh faithfully walked up beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, saying something to him. The two began walking, leading the group. John, Renee and Amy stayed behind in their usual trio. Amy was still red in the face and was staring after Troy with daggers in her eyes.

"You have quite the temper, Amy," John said lowly, looking down at her.

"Well he pissed me off," Amy answered, wiping at her teary eyes again, "Sorry about my potty mouth, but jeez! He made me so upset! Whatever makes him think he had the right to try and do that… I never knew Troy would even consider such a thing!"

"It was probably the heat of the moment," John replied, looking at Troy as he walked ahead of them, talking to Josh. His shoulders were hunched in shame, and he shuffled along like an elderly man, "Sometimes, we do things without thinking them over clearly first."

He glanced down to Renee, who still hadn't said anything since the incident. He had heard her scream, but ever since then she had been deadly silent. Her face was slightly pale, visible even beneath the layer of dirt. Her mouth was somewhat pouty and her expression was sad and thoughtful.

Knowing Linda was watching over for them, John reached down and took Renee's hand in his own. She responded by squeezing it tightly, and she looked up to him, smiling ever so slightly. But he could tell it was forced.

"Upset?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded, sniffling slightly.

"I don't blame you," Amy replied, looking down at Luke's dog tags in her hand, jingling them ever so slightly, "Not only Troy being an asshole, but poor Luke," she said again, putting the dog tags into her pocket, "He seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders."

"It easily could have been any of us," John said grimly, his grip tightening on Renee's hand protectively.

"John?" Renee spoke up, her voice small.

"Yes?"

"You're hurting my hand a little…" she told him, and instantly he let go, apologizing. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

"Better?" He questioned softly, and he saw her nod, a little smile coming out on her lips. Amy leaned forward to peer across John's chest to get a better look at the snuggling couple. Smiles were contagious, and a smile worked her way out on her lips too.

"You know, that's a little unprofessional, John," Amy nagged, "You too, Renee."

"Linda's watching over us, we're fine," John replied, "There's nothing on the motion tracker."

"Why don't you just make out with her, then?"

She said this a little loud, and both Troy and Josh looked back over their shoulders at them. Renee expected Troy to give them a glare, but he actually smirked.

"Keep it PG rated back there," Josh made a face, "Don't forget where we are, you sickos. That goes for you too, Smythe - getting off on the Chief and Kilburn mackin'."

"Amy's a freak, aren't you Amy?" Troy beamed, and Renee was rather surprised to see that it was a true smile – she was able to distinguish the difference a long time ago. When Troy truly smiled, his cheeks puffed out a bit and he had deep dimples at the corners of his mouth. When he smiled to be cruel or any other reason, he looked like some screwed up clown.

"No more than you, LT," Amy answered, "Did Josh slip you some drugs up there or somethin'? What's with the sudden giddiness?"

Troy didn't answer, and Josh shook his head at Amy upon the mention of drug dealing.

"You have a nutty imagination."

"A perverted one too," Renee piped up, and this got a laugh out of everyone.

They rounded the corner, and that's when John got a radio from Linda.

"You're out of my sights, John," she told him, "Up to you now. Good luck."

She signed off without waiting for a response, and John removed his arm from Renee's shoulder, taking his assault rifle from his back.

"Linda can't see us anymore, keep alert now," John passed on the message.

"Where are we even headed?" Amy questioned, "This reminds me of Earth, when me, Renee and Troy would walk around the city in the dead of night, no clue in hell where we were headed, laughing and telling jokes until the sun came up."

"Good times, those!" Troy laughed, turning around to face them, walking backwards. He snapped his fingers, and pointed at Renee, a new glow coming to his face, "Oh, oh, RenRen! Remember that guy? That creepy old guy who was like, four feet tall and super messed up hair?"

Renee laughed herself.

"Oh yeah!" her face light up, "I do! Tell John that one!" she looked to John, "This is hilarious."

"Ok," Troy licked his lips thoughtfully, the smile unable to be wiped from his face, "John, there was this old guy, and he was really old, and me, RenRen and Smythy were out walkin at night. We stopped in front of his house; there was this brick ledge, so we figured we'd just sit on it for a minute right? Amy, if I remember correctly was totally hammered…"

"Haha, yup," Amy laughed, "Vodka."

"Yeah, bad, bad child," Troy shook his head, then looked back to John, "Anyway, yeah, we sat there, were talkin, Renee n' I were kissing a bit and stuff right, and then this ol' guy comes out of his house, and like literally freaks. I don't know how old he was, but man, he yelled like he was twenty somethin! Scared the shit right outa us," Troy paused to let everyone laugh, and Renee was sure she heard John's laugh mixed in there too. Troy continued, "But yeah, he was like 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU KIDS DOING ON MY GODDAMN PROPERTY!' And I was like, holy shit you know – imagine some old guy yelling at you like that, man! Apparently we weren't fast enough getting off his ledge, so he comes after us! With this friggin stick, and he's runnin right down the steps after us, so we start flying down the street – and poor Amy, she's stumbling all over the place – and she must've been seeing things cause she's yelling something about cats…"

Amy roared at the memory, leaning onto Renee for support. Renee was laughing too, as was Josh, but what surprised her the most, was that she could hear John's laughter above everyone else's. She'd only heard him laugh a few times but it was easily recognizable.

Amy must've heard it too, for she slapped her knee, doubling over, pointing to John, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

"He's laughing!" she gasped, "He's laughing his ass off!"

Troy laughed harder, and for a few moments the five of them were just uncontrollably laughing. John, who hadn't laughed that hard since he could remember – felt a strange pain in his chest from laughing so hard – he was actually out of breath. He wasn't even sure why he laughed, but Troy just seemed to lighten the mood – which was very ironic, for Troy was usually the one to darken it. It still hadn't gone from his mind what Troy had done to Renee just a month ago, that caused him a broken jaw. John wouldn't forget, but he believed that it was a human thing to do to forgive him. Troy was human, and he felt emotions and was being strongly affected by the war, not the first person John had seen. He was affected as well, everyone was affected in some way – most recently were the sudden deaths of their team, the Wraith mortar attacks that made their numbers dwindle from over twenty down to a measly one digit number.

To laugh with Renee, Amy, Troy and Josh made John feel that somehow he could relate to them. He could relate to Renee easily, and Amy a little easier, but to share something with Troy and Josh was a new experience. The only thing they'd shared in the past was anger and detest towards one another, but now they were laughing freely at an event, that John hadn't even experienced – but it made him feel happy that the tale brought life to everyone's faces – and the one who had been the most miserable had been the one to get everyone started.

John should've known the happiness could only last so long on the battlefield.

Their laughter and joy was crushed when John's eyes were drawn to the lower corner of his HUD, where a red dot came onto his motion tracker, moving quickly in their direction. John's head snapped up, just in time to see an Elite come bolting out of an alleyway. It was missing an arm, and was clearly disoriented. It let out a low growl, and John raised his weapon, but not before the one armed Elite could fire its plasma rifle.

What happened next was inevitable.

It hit Josh square in the chest, just as he was turning around to look at the Elite. The shot immediately made Josh fall to his knees. He let out a groan, and flattened himself towards the ground as his group snapped to defend him. Troy let out a strangled yell, but along with everyone else, they raised their assault rifles, and Josh silently dealt with the pain as four assault rifles fired above his head. The Elite had barely raised its weapon to fire at Troy, but it was too late. It was peppered with bullets, and its shields were dropped instantly from being fired upon at such a close distance. It was dead before it even reached the ground. Troy, who flipped again to anger, kicked the alien's body, letting out a loud shout, cursing it upside down. His foot made contact with its skull with a sickening crack, again and again.

"It's dead!" John shouted at him, as he Renee and Amy knelt by Josh's side. Josh was lying on his back, clutching at his wound. His armor managed to protect him from the worst of it, but John knew he was in danger. Troy abandoned his Elite abuse, and dropped to his knees beside Josh, who was surprisingly calm, breathing evenly and not panicking. He was bleeding and probably in a great deal of pain, but he didn't complain.

"Josh, man, are you okay?" Troy asked, but Josh obviously wasn't.

"It should hurt, but I… don't really feel much," Josh groaned, pressing his hand on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. The wound itself was horrendous. His armor vest had melted right to his skin and beneath it John could see bits of bone and tattered pieces of flesh. Not good at all. Josh didn't even look at it, for he knew it was bad. Troy looked somewhat sick, but he managed to keep himself controlled so not to upset Josh any more than possible.

"My first aid kit's in my backpack…" Josh said shakily, grunting from the pain as he tried to roll on one side to allow someone to reach the kit, but John gently pushed him onto his back.

"Don't move," John instructed, his voice ice, "Moving will aggravate the bleeding. Just stay calm, like you're doing. Troy, get your kit."

Troy seemed to have gained some confidence. Despite looking worried and pale, he nodded, and swiftly removed his backpack, and dumped out its contents – a jumble of rations and ammo. He snatched up the first aid kit from the mess, and opened it, handing it to John.

"You're gonna be alright, Josh, buddy," Troy said encouragingly. He even smiled, "You're not gonna ditch us, right? You're gonna get through this, it's not that bad."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Josh answered weakly, closing his eyes, "Stupid bastard Elite, ruined our little joke, I was having a good laugh. Did it have one arm, or was I seeing things?"

Renee and Amy were quickly helping John get out the appropriate supplies, too busy to answer, and Troy didn't have any problem with talking to him anyway. Anyone though, if they looked at Troy, could tell he was on the verge of another breakdown, not as serious as before but the tears were once again threatening to spill. His lip, if he didn't keep his teeth clamped down on it, would surely be trembling.

"It had one arm," Troy answered, nodding, "Hadn't seen that before."

"Hey," Josh said, laughing slightly. He reached up and brushed John's arm to get his attention, "It was probably one of your Spartan pals. They probably ripped his arm right off. They can totally do that, right?"

"Maybe," John answered, laughing slightly himself, "Though I've never tried."

He copied Troy and tried to keep as optimistic as possible, although John could see Josh didn't look well at all. His color was draining from his face and a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead, soaking his hair.

"I always thought you Spartans were cool," Josh admitted, glancing from Troy back to John. He paused to cough, and it went from placid to violent in a split second, and all of a sudden his face was pained, and a spray of dark, thick blood came from his mouth. Josh seemed surprised for a moment, but was too weak to hold his head up.

"Josh!" Troy said, "Josh! Hang in there! We're helping you!"

Josh stifled another cough, but the blood pooled anyway and dripped from the corner of his mouth. As if he was ashamed, Josh closed his eyes and turned his face away. Troy looked up to John, who had paused and was watching Josh.

John didn't want to say anything, he could feel Troy's eyes on him, but he was watching Josh's vitals dropping on his HUD by the second. Josh was dying. He continued to cough, but then he let out a strangled little sigh, and grew still.

"Josh, buddy, no!" Troy said, reaching forward and shaking him desperately, "Stay with me, man. You can't leave me too!"

Josh's eyes fluttered open for a moment, but closed again. His lips moved, but no words came out at first. It was like he had to struggle. However, he managed to say in a low, low whisper.

"Stay strong, Troy."

John couldn't do anything, as watched his vitals drop completely. A little beeping sounded in John's helmet, and "KIA" flashed by Josh's name. John couldn't bear to tell anyone right away, so he reached up to his neck to feel for a pulse. He waited three seconds and felt nothing.

"You don't need to do that," John said to Amy and Renee, as they were preparing a dose of morphine. They were silent, but Amy dropped the syringe. Renee felt the same miserable feeling of loss creeping up on her again, and she silently put the little dose of morphine back into the first aid kit, staring at Josh's still body. His expression was calm, not pained. He looked like he was sleeping, but she knew he wasn't. She looked up to Troy, who swallowed, and folded his hands on his lap, leaning away from Josh. He swallowed again, and again, but the tears were uncontrollably welling up. An expression of pain crossed his face, and he exhaled shakily. Instead of freaking out, Troy simply bit his lip, and reached forward to put his hand over Josh's.

"Dammit, Hamlin," he said lowly. He looked up at the sky, squinting, "I'll miss you."

He bowed his head, and was still for a moment as tears silently dropped from his face. After a long beat, he reached over shakily, and removed Josh's dog tags. He looked at them for a long time, until finally putting them into his breast pocket.

"I'm sorry," John told him, reaching across Josh's body to put a hand on Troy's shoulder.

Troy nodded solemnly, and everyone else was silent.

"There are just four of us now," He said lowly, "We haven't got a chance in hell."

"We can't give up," Renee spoke up. She had been crying too, for tear tracks traced their way down her dirty cheeks, "Like Josh said, we gotta stay strong, we have to stick together."

* * *

'Kolsamee was just casually drifting to sleep, when all of a sudden, his headset crackled to life. He knew it wouldn't be 'Malnoonee, so he narrowed it down to 'Vadumee or some other Sangheili. He was right, as he heard 'Vadumee's tired voice come through.

"I heard about your worries, 'Kolsamee."

"Through a sneaky interception, my brother?" 'Kolsamee questioned lowly, forcing his eyes open.

"You know me well," 'Vadumee replied with a chuckle, "Just had to make sure I was up to date on all goings on in this city. Based on the information I have gained from my most recent interceptions, I think it is safe for me to tell you that you don't have to worry anymore."

"Why is that?" 'Kolsamee snapped, sitting up straighter against the wall, "Are they dead!"

"No," 'Vadumee answered, "Completely the opposite. Your Spartan was able to destroy the two Mgalekgolo – by himself. One shot in the back, the other, taken out by a rocket. Our troops then deployed a Wraith to launch mortars into their base – killed a majority of their men. Six members fled, and they decided to let them go. The Spartan, two females, and three males… one was killed by a sniper, and most recently, another from a lucky shot fired by a wounded Sangheili."

'Kolsamee felt his heart in his throat.

"What ones?" he demanded.

"Two of the males," 'Vadumee replied, "The one left is reported to be suicidal… but that's all the information I regained from the Kig-Yar sniper before he was killed himself."

"By whom?"

"Another Spartan," he was calm, "Our troops are going to leave them be for the meantime. We will pose a threat but make sure not to kill the female and the Spartan. As for the other two…"

"Fair game," 'Kolsamee snarled, "But _my _fair game. They are all to die by my hands. Not anyone else's, you understand?"

"Of course," 'Vadumee was agreeable, "I heard you say generally the same thing to 'Malnoonee." There was a brief pause, and then he continued, "Just a question for you – not to insult your skill, but do you really think you will be able to kill the Spartan? After all, he killed the two Mgalekgolo in less than ten minutes."

"Not without injury, he didn't," 'Kolsamee answered, "He must've caught a beam to the arm or…"

"He was kicked and beaten around," 'Vadumee replied, "So yes, I suppose he'd be somewhat handicapped, but only a little if at all. These Spartans are not called super soldiers for nothing, you know."

"Yes," 'Kolsamee said thoughtfully, "Though, in his previous battles, his little female wasn't in distress. I'll make sure she will be, somehow. If I have to disembowel her in front of him, I will. If I can't make him surrender physically first, I'll make him lose his strength mentally and emotionally. If anything happens to her, I know he will be nothing but a mess. That's what I'm relying on, you see. For without her, I don't even know if this would work. It might be the end of me, but like I said, either way this ends, it'll be the end of me anyway."

He switched off the radio, and sighed, ignoring as 'Vadumee tried to question his actions. 'Vadumee needn't burden himself with wondering about him. As an _Ossoona_, it wasn't uncommon for those like 'Kolsamee to die on their missions.

'Kolsamee hadn't forgotten about the human boy.

His dishonor had his fate sealed. Death by a Spartan, or death by his own hand. It wouldn't matter in the end anyway, as long as he was dead. No one could get after a dead Sangheili.


	37. A Shopping Excursion

** Chapter Thirty-Six**

** [May 6****th****, 2535 ****–**** Epsilon Hydranus System - Hydra]**

Slowly but surely, the sun was dipping beyond the horizon. It was getting dark quickly, for the still-standing high-rise buildings made better doors than windows, so to speak, and blocked out a fair majority of the sunlight before the star had even fully gone out of sight. The temperature was cooling down – leaving a chill in the air that could be felt through even the warmest of uniform.

John hadn't a problem, for his suit was sensitive to his body temperature and that of the exterior air around him. It was always calculating a comfortable temperature for him – but it occurred to him that Renee, Amy, and Troy were beginning to get a little cold.

They'd been walking for at least an hour, basically doing a scout of the buildings, looking for any survivors – and Covenant, and they had run into neither. Dead bodies were common things to be seen, as well as destroyed, flaming vehicles and crumbled buildings. The dead silence – interrupted by only the sound of their footsteps across the pavement and fallen pieces of concrete and steel.

When Josh had died, they'd put his body in a building in a similar manner to Luke's, and Troy hadn't been the only one to shed a few tears – Amy and Renee both did. John tried his best to comfort them but it was one field that he still felt useless in. He could comfort Renee by holding her, stroking her hair and kissing her – but as for anyone else, his mind ran blank. He didn't know how to console Amy, or even begin to try and console Troy, except to say he was sorry for them.

They had continued on in their trek wordlessly, Troy leading the way. He kept his head down, assault rifle at his side. His carelessness was something John saw as a fault and possible danger to everyone, but when he had looked to Renee and Amy, they had similar postures. That's when John decided it would be best if he took the lead. He never heard a word of protest from Troy.

"Are we going to keep walking?" Amy spoke up, and John looked back over his shoulder at her, Renee and Troy, who were all at different stages of being cold. He could see their breath as each one of them breathed or spoke.

"It's getting real cold, fast," Troy muttered, and then he looked up to face John, "Is it warm in that hunk of steel you're wearing there?"

John nodded ever so slightly.

"Temperature controlled," he answered lowly.

"Lucky you," Troy said.

"Can I crawl in with ya?" Amy asked, her traditional grin coming across her face.

"Not nearly enough room," John told her, smirking behind his visor, "I take up every inch."

"I bet you do," Amy snorted, giggling, "You're a tank."

"Hey, so am I!" Troy tsked at her, frowning, but then a smile crawled out on his lips, "But we all know who's the best of us here. Renee. Look at her, she's huge!"

Renee laughed, hugging herself with one arm, trying to keep herself warm. Laughter from everyone else mingled with hers. Even John chuckled.

"Come on Renee, show us those biceps of yours," Troy egged her on, and she shoved him.

"I am not a tank," she laughed, holding out both of her arms, "Look at me; I'm just skin and bones."

"That's what you want us to think," Troy winked at John, grinning, "We all know you can totally kick Spartan's ass! You could beat him senseless, couldn't ya?"

"Oh definitely, he's afraid of me."

"Absolutely terrified," John answered slightly. He didn't mind Troy playing with her. Once again, he was lightening the mood. John figured he was beginning to understand what Renee and Amy meant by the old Troy, and how he used to be hilarious.

"Renee's the dominant one then?" Amy came through with her never-failing innuendo, "I'm sorry, but I can't really picture that. She's too timid to go slapping John around."

"I can't picture it either," Renee replied, her face reddening, "That's why it's a bunch of BS."

"Actually, it would be amusing! John, next time let her take control. You might have a surprise or two in store for you, babe," Amy winked at John, and laughed. John said nothing, finding it hard to believe that such an experience with Renee could be any better than it had been initially.

"Amy you're disgusting," Troy said with a laugh, "Though, anyone who is with Renee would be one helluva lucky guy. I had my chance, blew it though. But we're still friends, right RenRen?"

"Yep," Renee didn't hesitate one second. The events in the past few hours had really made her think, and what she would do if she ever lost Troy. Maybe it wasn't apparent at first, but he played a big part in her life. His idiocy in the past could be forgiven. All that mattered now was that all four of them would make it off this planet alive. She had been angry with him for pulling the suicidal stunt, but now was feeling like she was taking a step into the past. The youthful Troy that she thought had been long gone was actually making a comeback. The only other time she'd seen this side of him was when he wanted something from her – but now it seemed he was telling funny stories and teasing – just to make everyone, and probably himself, feel better. He was even acknowledging John without being rude to him, and as of recent, he seemed to finally accept that John was who she loved.

"We're going to need to find a place to rest for the night," John told them, focusing on the problem at hand, "A place where the Covenant won't have an easy time finding us. Although we haven't seen any in over an hour, it doesn't mean they're not here." He glanced uncertainty to the horizon, that was glowing from the distant fires in areas that already been glassed by the Covenant cruisers. They were here, alright, maybe not in this area of the city, but John knew they wouldn't leave until every part of this planet was scorched, just like they had done to the colonies before this one.

"The mall over there," Amy suggested, pointing up to a hill where a large parking lot and a two storey mall could be seen, with large glass windows and the latest modern design, "I've always wanted to camp out in a mall. If we could find someplace like a back room or something in one of the shops, the Covenant would have a difficult time locating us."

"That's a good idea," Troy nodded, "What do you say, Spartan?"

"Fine then," John said with a curt nod.

"Ever been to a shopping mall?" Renee asked him, and John chuckled.

"I can't say I have," he replied, "Not that I remember, anyway."

They double timed it up the road, across the large, mostly vacant parking lot and into the mall. Since everyone had left in mass panic, including the workers, the mall was left unlocked and the lights on. However, by the looks of things as the four walked into the main lobby, the Covenant had already been there and left. Shopping bags were strewn across the floor, dropped where terrified people had left them. Clothes racks had been tipped over and things were broken. The stores, for the most part, looked to be a mess. Plasma burns had scorched the walls and shattered several panes of glass in the overhead dome that provided the light for the main lobby – and the glass was everywhere, glittering in melted and deformed pieces in result of their clash with plasma. There were a couple of dead bodies visible – people who couldn't get away fast enough or had been in a changing room at the time of the attack and weren't able to escape. An antique gumball machine had been shattered, and gumballs lay everywhere, their bright cheery colors contrasting with the otherwise gloomy scene.

"So," John breathed, "This is a shopping mall."

"On doomsday," Amy added, "Trust me John; they're much nicer when not trashed by a bunch of alien bastards. But, to look on the bright side, there's a huge blow out sale. Everything for free! Finders, keepers…" she stooped to the ground to pick up a summery dress with a blue flowered pattern and held it up to herself, "Look good?"

"Yes," John answered truthfully, who didn't remember much of civilian clothes. He'd only seen the blouses, slacks and skirts Dr. Halsey commonly wore.

"Yeah, this is creepin' me out," Troy said, and looked to Renee, "You're not going to go shoving clothes in your backpack too, are you?" He gestured to Amy, who was hastily cramming the garment into her backpack after gaining John's approval.

Renee shook her head.

"It's stealing, Amy," she told her friend.

"This planet's gonna wind up like the others, I know it," Amy straightened, walking around, browsing the clothes from the fallen racks, "These clothes are going to burn in the end, so why don't I save a few from that horrible fate?"

John straightened one clothes rack, looking at the clothes curiously, but he didn't touch them. He looked to the others, "Let's select the place where we're going to sleep. Then, we're going to split up and check the whole mall, top to bottom, just to make sure there aren't any Covenant."

It didn't take long for them to find an appropriate place to rest. A whole section of the mall's roof had collapsed – from what, John didn't know. But it had formed a closed off area, where the concrete and wires had collapsed in such a way where you could get in through a small space – and wouldn't easily be seen by anyone.

They were able to fit through the space, for John, it was a tight squeeze, but inside their little area, it was quite cozy. John made everyone else stand outside, while he checked the place for any signs of further collapse. It was solid. After everyone had agreed it would be the place where they would bunk down for the night, John, Renee, and Amy and Troy split up into teams of two to do an anti-Covenant sweep of the building. John and Renee took the second floor, and Troy and Amy took the first floor.

The escalator was still working, so Renee and John used it instead of the elevator, although, John mustn't have been familiar with an escalator, for he just walked up it anyway despite it moving. Renee let out a small laugh as he turned around to watch her as she stepped off the escalator the proper way.

"You're too impatient," she told him.

"I figured I'm capable of walking up the stairs, I don't need the stairs to do the work for me," John replied, and he looked around at the surroundings, letting out a low whistle, "It's just as big up here as it is on the bottom floor."

"And this isn't mall isn't even that big," Renee told him, "You should see the ones in Los Angeles."

"That's on Earth, right?"

"Yes, it's where I'm from," Renee nodded, "I don't think I ever told you that did I? You just knew I was from Earth in general, but yes, I'm from sunny California, USA."

"Never been there," John remarked sheepishly, as they started walking down the mall. The design was simple, it was circular, so that they could make a complete lap around without having to come back and walk double the length to go to the other side.

"Not even to Earth?" Renee was somewhat bewildered.

"I've only seen pictures."

"Well, if… I mean, _when_ we go back to Earth, you'll love it there," Renee smiled, "I know you will." She reached out to grab his free hand that wasn't holding the assault rifle, "It's peaceful, and so far away from all of this, I hope they never do find Earth, the Covenant. It'll be a sad day if they do, for I have doubts, if we can't defend the existing colonies, how will we ever be able to defend Earth? It's what we're fighting for but the Covenant are only getting closer and closer, despite the issuing of the Cole Protocol."

"We can only hope this war is over before too long," John replied, although he knew that the war was far from over as it were, but yes, he would love to see Earth. He would love to live on Earth with Renee – an option only available to him if the war ended. And it didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon. John let go of her hand, saying, "You check the stores on the left, I'll take the right."

"Got it," Renee nodded.

They separated, and she wasn't even two feet away from him when he opened a COM channel with her. She could hear his breathing.

"I don't want to take any chances," his voice sounded particularly more handsome over the radio.

"I understand, neither do I," she let herself laugh a little.

"Suspect anything, see anything move, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Sure thing, John."

John looked back over his shoulder at her, just to watch her as she walked into the first store cautiously. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned around, and walked into a brightly lit store, filled with glass boxes. Some of them were shattered, and in them, was jewelry. Something he hadn't seen much of either, John was entranced by the glittering jewels that lay on black or white velvet. His mind flashed back to what Amy had said, about how this was all going to burn eventually. She probably was right – from what he'd been through so far, it was like the Covenant was winning – again.

John, after making sure there were no Covenant hiding anywhere, began to walk slowly among the glass cases, admiring the expensive jewelry in them. He remembered Amy, how she took the dress. Would it hurt if he…?

His eye was caught by a shimmer, and he looked to his right, to a shattered glass box. Lying in amongst the shards of glass was a necklace and beside it was a small piece of paper that described what it was. He picked up the paper, and read it. It said the necklace was white gold, with two 10 carat pink diamonds, and it symbolized "eternal love". Price: $50,000. Though the knowledge of the worth of diamonds was unbeknownst to him, John gently picked up the necklace. It stood out against the black of his glove. The chain was dainty, and it had two hearts intertwined together. Each heart had a fair sized pink diamond in the center. Eternal love…

John closed his hand on the necklace gently, and turned on his heel, to look at Renee, who was coming back from checking the store. He met her half way, but decided he would give her the necklace once they were sure that the building had no Covenant in it.

"What's that, a jewelry store?" Renee questioned, gesturing towards the store.

"Yes," John answered with a nod, lowering his hand holding the necklace to avoid any suspicion. He wanted it to be a surprise, "Let's finish checking all of these stores, shall we?"

It didn't take long. Most of the stores could be checked without them having to go in. Renee and John kept up small talk a little, but they both were focusing on the mission at hand. When they finally made their way around the whole second floor and back to the escalators, they got a radio from Amy:

"All clear down here, how about you?"

"It's clear," John replied, "We'll meet you down there in five." He switched off the radio, and looked at Renee's expression – for she knew it wouldn't take five minutes to get downstairs. They were right by the escalators. She raised an eyebrow at him, not making a move to go down.

"Renee," John began, exhaling a deep breath. That's when he remembered he had his helmet on. It would be safe to take it off now. He paused to take off his helmet, setting it and the assault rifle down on a nearby bench. Seeing his face again made Renee instantly smile and John couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes?" she asked. She set down her assault rifle beside his, and for a moment, they both looked at each other in silence.

"I have something for you." John came right out with it, "Hold out your hand."  
She did, her smile growing bigger.

"What is it?" she began, but he told her,

"Close your eyes."  
She did without question, her smile getting impossibly larger. John reached forward and gently removed her glove, and tossed it onto the bench as well. Holding her hand with his free one, he gently placed the necklace into her palm.

"Open."

Renee opened her eyes, and looked down to her hand, and John watched as her eyes widened, and she gasped at the sight of his gift.

"John!" she exclaimed. For a moment he thought she was going to question where he got it, but instead, she looked up to him in bewilderment, back to the necklace, then down to the necklace again, her mouth agape, "It's… beautiful."

"I found it in the jewelry store," John said, clearing his throat, "The two hearts, they mean eternal love."

Renee bit her lip, and she touched the two hearts gently with her fingertip, admiring as the diamonds shone brightly under the light. Their deep pink color was alluring, mysterious – yet a deep symbol of love. She knew, without asking John that they were pink diamonds – a rare color that most people would give an arm and a leg for. John had just found it, and like Amy had the dress, taken it, so it wouldn't go to waste.

"I love it," she whispered, looking up to John's cheery face, "Thank you."

John's eyes lit up, and he walked into her arms before she had them fully outstretched. Standing on her tiptoes, she managed to wrap her arms around his neck and for the first time in a long time, it seemed, the two of them leaned in and shared a passionate kiss, which lasted for several seconds. Finally, they separated. John let out a little sigh, and watched her intently as she took off her other glove so that she could properly put the necklace on. She admired it for a moment, before safely tucking it beneath her armor and clothes, placing her hand over it and looking back up to him.

John felt pride for having given her a gift – gift giving was something he had little to no experience with, but when he saw the necklace, it was like something in him knew that it was meant for Renee. Its delicate design was perfect to go with her own delicate frame; the necklace was beautiful just as she was.

"John! Renee!" there was a call from downstairs, and Renee saw Amy and Troy standing at the bottom of the escalator.

"What?" she asked, taking the gloves and her weapon that John hastily handed to her.

"C'mere," Amy waved her down, "We found something really awesome!"

Renee walked down the escalator, and John, rather foolishly, jumped over the balcony, skipping the escalator all together. She shrieked at him as he hit the floor with a thud, landing on his feet gracefully like a cat.

"He's fine," Troy told her, rolling his eyes, "Sometimes I think you forget what he is."

"But that was stupid of you," Renee looked straight to John, who came up to them with his helmet clutched under his arm.

"I've jumped off higher," John told her, giving her a wry smile, "Don't worry about me."

Momentarily, Renee thought back to that mental image she had stored in her head of the Hunter kicking him and sending his body flying through the air. She wondered how bad he was beneath all that green titanium armor. He seemed indestructible, and oblivious to most pain.

"You're a dare devil," Amy praised him as if he'd just bungee jumped, "Nice. Right now, onto the business! Sorry to interrupt you two and your make out scene, but Troy and I found something!"

"If it's some dress, I'm not interested," Renee sighed.

"No, I've got the ones I wanted," Amy answered, the plural usage in her sentence told Renee and John that she obviously had crammed more into her backpack, "We found an old photo booth! It just down there a ways," she gestured off with her hand, smiling, "We definitely should get a group picture! Troy has enough money for just one, so let's take advantage of it!"

"I don't like getting my picture taken," John frowned.

"Oh, why not?" Amy asked him, looking bewildered, "You're gorgeous! Did I ever tell you I think he has the most handsome nose, Renee?" she didn't need to stand on her tip toes to reach his face. Awkwardly, she took John by the chin, and tried to turn his head. His expression was hilarious, "Turn your head to the side, you stubborn mule!" Amy snapped at him. John let out a chuckle, and Renee tried to protest, not completely understanding what Amy was doing. John turned his head as he was instructed however, and Amy continued, as if she was explaining a statue at a museum.

"His nose, look at it," Amy made a face, "So straight and handsome, but just how it's rounded on the end, ever so slightly. Gorgeous nose, not too big, not too small. Just right… don't you think Renee?"

Renee just laughed.

"You have such cute little ears too, John!" Amy added, grinning.

John glanced to Renee out of the corner of his eye, and made a weird face. Renee laughed at him, shaking her head apologetically.

"That's nice, Amy," John replied.

"I had a nice nose, too, before you broke it," Troy added, glaring at Renee.

"You wanna fight, bud?" Renee snapped at him, although jokingly.

"Yeah, come on, bring it!" Troy's fists came up, and he took a fighting stance, "I'll fight you, come on."

Renee raised her fists too, unable to keep a straight face. Amy laughed at them, and glanced up to John, who looked tense all of a sudden, ready to spring out and defend Renee. Soothingly, Amy put a hand on his shoulder.

"They're just joking around," she told him, and the two of them watched as Renee and Troy threw punches at one another. In a swift move, Renee had her arm around Troy's neck, but in another move, Troy had both of them down on the ground, his arm now around her neck in turn. Renee broke into laughter.

"Damn, you were always better than me!" she cried, ducking out of his grasp.

"No, no," Troy got to his feet, and helped Renee to hers as well, and he looked to John, whose expression was serious, and concerned, "What you just saw, she let me win. Renee could really kill me. She could cream us all, right RenRen?"

"Sure," Renee was in a giddy mood all of a sudden, and she ran towards John, "You next!" She threw a punch at his chest plate, but John grabbed her hands swiftly, and almost gracefully, he spun her down towards the ground. She was lying on her back in a second, with him standing over her, a foot gently placed on her arm, and he was holding onto her other.

A smile was on his face as he looked down on her, as she beamed back, her cheeks red.

"Nice try," he grinned, "You're not fast enough."

"I can only imagine what you two are like in bed," Amy said plainly, folding her arms on her chest, and she imitated John with a deep voice, "'_Nice try Renee, but I will be on top. Ha ha ha.__'"_

Troy made a face, looking slightly sick at even the thought of it. He didn't comment.

"Amy!" Renee cried, embarrassed, as John pulled her up off the floor.

"That was uncalled for," John told her, a completely serious expression on his pale face.

Amy just laughed, getting joy out of seeing Renee's horrified expression. She twirled around, and when she was facing them again her face was completely composed.

"Photo booth, all of us, now," she instructed, "Even you, handsome." By that she meant John, and she raised an eyebrow seductively. John didn't protest.

It took quite a bit of planning to figure out how all four of them would fit into the photo booth. It was only so big and John was almost as tall and wide as it was. Amy fussed for a while, but finally decided that she would go in first, then Troy, then Renee, and John could just crouch down and poke his head in, since there was no way he could fit his entire body in the booth.

Troy only had enough change for one picture, but it would be enough. He put the right amount of money in, and then they crammed into the small space. On the holographic screen, it said, "Smile" in big letters. Everyone did, and the picture was taken.

They all poured out of the booth, and Troy was the first to pluck it from the machine, examining the still warm photograph in his hands. He grinned, and Amy, Renee and John crowded around him to look. John could just look over everyone's heads.

"John's smiling!" Amy exclaimed, glancing up at him, "You have such a nice smile!"

Renee studied the picture in Troy's dirty hands. True enough, she, Amy, Troy and John were smiling, but John's was definitely the most noticeable, and the nicest smile of all. He was smiling with his teeth and he looked very handsome and truly happy, his head close to hers. It wasn't forced by all means.

"We're all a bunch of dirt bags," Troy remarked with a throaty laugh, "Look at us, our faces are black with dirt… except Spartan there. But he sticks out anyway."

"Whaddya mean by that!" Amy defended John quickly, "He's smiling, just like us."

"That's what I mean," Troy looked from the picture up to John himself, who wasn't smiling anymore, "I've never seen you smile like that. It's almost creepy. It's like it's not you or something."

"I haven't had many opportunities to," John answered honestly, "And for a while, I wasn't exactly used to it."

Troy nodded, and then he looked down to the picture,

"Well, to be honest with you, John," he declared with a deep sigh, "You look much better with a smile on your face instead of that stupid frown you usually got going on. Perhaps if you wore the smile more, people wouldn't be so intimidated of you."

John didn't reply, but he slightly nodded his head. Renee watched him cautiously for any signs of taking Troy's words negatively, but John looked as calm as he had been in a while. He looked to her, that loveable smirk coming out on his thin lips.

"You look beautiful in the picture," he told her lowly. Renee folded her arms on her chest.

"Even being as dirty and sweaty as I am?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at him, not understanding John's logic.

"Of course," John answered, and for a moment, the two of them shared a long, loving gaze. Amy watched them in amusement, knowing that their thoughts just must be flying. For a moment she wondered if the two of them wanted to do more than kiss each other – but it was something she wouldn't want to be around to see – even if it involved John shirtless. She was going to give them a warning, but decided not to, for that subject of conversation made Troy obviously uncomfortable and probably borderline angry. Although Troy had been pretty tolerable for the most part, she didn't want to go walking on thin ice with him.

"I'm tired," Amy declared boisterously, stretching her arms far over her head and kept talking through a sleepy yawn, "Don't know about you guys, but I've had enough aliens and enough killing to last me a life time!"

"Ditto," Troy nodded, and she and Troy turned without a word and began heading back to their little "quarantine zone". John and Renee didn't clue in for a couple of seconds, until finally Renee caught a movement out of her eye and tore her eyes away from John's, and the two of them hurried after them.

Troy and Amy had already climbed in through the mess of fallen concrete when they arrived. Renee ducked in through quickly, and turned to offer her hand to help John, who was almost too big to fit through the small space. He took her hand although she knew he wouldn't need it. He had the balance of a trapeze artist.

Amy was sitting up against the wall, and Troy was stretched out in a corner, beneath a lower piece of concrete that he said gave him the essence of being in a bunk bed. This made everyone laugh, for they couldn't get why it would make a difference to him or not.

John walked over and sat down on the wall opposite Amy, and held his arm out for Renee. She sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder, as he protectively wrapped his arm around her. Laying his assault rifle across his lap and stretching out his long legs, John put his head back against the cold wall, exhaling a deep breath. In their area of the mall, it was dark for whatever lights had been on the collapsed roof were long since broken.

"Are you even going to sleep?" Renee asked him, her voice already soft and sleepy.

"I don't know yet," John answered, keeping his voice quiet, for Amy and Troy both had their eyes closed, "I think it would be better if I just stay up."

"We chose this place so no Covenant would come creeping up on us in the night," Renee protested, "You can sleep an hour or two at least, can't you?"

"I can," John replied, "But I'm not sure if I will," he looked down to her, and kissed her softly on the forehead, "I love you."

"I love you too," Renee muttered sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm putting my helmet on," John said lowly, "Just in case there's someone trying to contact me."

She nodded, making a little "Mhm" noise. John put the helmet on, and the hiss of his suit pressurizing echoed in the room. All of a sudden, Amy's voice came through the dim light.

"I'll be listening for that sound, John," she said, "I don't want to hear you taking that helmet off, or any other part of your armor, got it? I don't want any late night hanky panky. If I wake up to hear you or Renee making _any _sort of noises, I will throw my assault rifle at you and hope it hits the two of you in the head."

"Amy's right, RenRen and JoJo," Troy put on a weird voice, "I want this to be a sex free environment, suitable for children of all ages."

"Shut up Troy," Renee laughed sleepily.

"JoJo?" John questioned.

Amy let out a loud howl of laughter.

"Troy's given you a nickname!" she exclaimed.

"Wonderful," John muttered lowly, letting out a chuckle, "Thanks."

"Welcome, JoJo buddy," Troy still had the weird voice going on, "G'night JoJo, RenRen and Smythy."

There was a trio of voices in response.

"Goodnight, LT."

Troy's lone laughter sounded from the corner, and then it was silent.


	38. The Final Moments

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**[May 7****th****, 2535 - Epsilon Hydranus System - Hydra]**

It was the early hours of the morning when John awoke out of a light, uncomfortable sleep. Although he knew he had been technically sleeping, his body didn't feel rested, nor did his mind. It felt like he had just closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark (a wonderful bonus of being a Spartan) and he scanned the small room. Across from him, Amy was asleep with her helmet pulled down over her eyes, hands folded on her stomach, one knee up. Not too far away in the corner beneath the overhang of concrete, Troy was stretched out on the floor lying on his side, facing the wall. His helmet was discarded beside him and he was using his backpack as a pillow. Judging by his lack of movement, John guessed that he was well into a deep sleep.

Finally, John looked down, and saw Renee's head wasn't resting on his shoulder – he had been quite unaware of it, but she now was resting with her head on his lap. His hand had fallen across her back, so John moved it slightly so it would wrap around her. He smiled, although he wished he wasn't wearing his armor so it would be more comfortable for her. Resting your head on titanium alloy plates couldn't be comfortable at all. Although he couldn't see her face, John could tell by the relaxed rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, that she was also sound asleep.

John's eyes darted around the small space, and his ears strained for any sounds of movement. His motion tracker portrayed nothing but his teams own positions, although John didn't always rely on his motion tracker one hundred percent. It could always make a mistake. He, however, was less likely to do so.

Satisfied that everyone and everything was undisturbed, John moved slightly to make himself more comfortable, then leaned his head back against the wall again, the sound of his helmet hitting the concrete making a slight scraping noise. He let out a little sigh, and let his eyes flutter closed again. They hadn't been shut for a second, before a crackling came through his ears, and seconds later, a voice.

"Spartan-117, are you there?"

John quickly adjusted his radio so that it couldn't be heard from the outside, for he felt Renee stir on his lap and didn't want to wake her, Amy or Troy. Lowly, he replied:

"Roger that."

"This is Captain Thomsen, from the _Hercules_," the familiar voice came back. In the seconds that he spoke, great background noise could be heard.

"Captain, sir," John made his voice sound more alert, "Good to hear from you again, sir."

"Likewise, 117," Thomsen answered, "How are things down there?"  
"As well as they can be, I guess, sir," John replied, "Lots of casualties. Four from Lieutenant Fisher's team alone – we lost a great deal of personnel in the initial conflict, many within minutes after they tried to head away from the LZ. We're down to three personnel, not including myself. Fisher, Kilburn and Smythe – they're all that's left, sir."

"I'm sorry," Thomsen replied solemnly, "Things from our view aren't that good either. Dr. Halsey and I were worried when you didn't come in with the rest of your Spartans."

"Sir?" John questioned.

"The Spartans were evacuated around 2300 hours, along with any remaining marines. The Covenant have begun to glass the planet, so we figured it wouldn't be safe to leave anyone on the ground. When you nor Fisher or his team returned, we were worried. Dr. Halsey transferred over to the _Hercules _from the Spartan's frigate as soon as she heard."

"How is she?" John asked.

"She's as well as she can be," Thomsen answered, "She's right here beside me. Although, we're all getting pretty shaken up at the moment. The Covenant are engaging in a little ship-to-ship battle with us. Nothing serious, they're just playing. Putting up enough fight to prevent us from sending in any evac."

"Will you be able to get us out, sir?" John inquired calmly, although he knew it was a possibility that it wouldn't happen. There was a moment's silence, and John guessed Thomsen had to pause to give orders.

"We will, John, but not until morning. When I tell you to be there, you have to be there, on the exact moment, for we might not get another chance," Thomsen was serious.

"Being on time is one thing I'm never bad at, sir," John replied, "You can count on me. I will be right where you want me."

"Good," Thomsen sounded relieved, "Well, Dr. Halsey wants to speak with you. Good luck, I'll contact you next when I have the coordinates of your evac location."

"Thank you, sir."

A moment later, Dr. Halsey's tired yet worried voice hit John's ears.

"John?"

"Ma'am," John replied curtly, "Good to hear from you."

"Thank goodness you're alright," Dr. Halsey sounded relieved, "But then again, I was a fool to ever doubt your skills. I know we must be interrupting your sleep but…"

"It's quite fine, Doctor," John chuckled lightly, "You know me. I can never sleep right when I'm out on the field. It's more like closing my eyes and pretending."

"Well I suppose if I were in your position, I would find it difficult to sleep as well," Dr. Halsey answered, "I heard about Fisher's team. The survivors… are they alright?"  
"Yes, a little shaken up, but Troy is surprisingly keeping us all optimistic. He's quite the joke teller, I've recently noted," John told her, "However, he was subject to witness the deaths of three of his close friends and the rest of his team besides Renee and Amy. I don't think he's very mentally stable, even if he manages to crack a joke and keep a smile on his face."

"Well I suppose the sooner we can get you four out of there, the better," Dr. Halsey sighed, "We haven't a hope in hell for Hydra, John. I thought we would, with all my Spartans fighting – but there's just too many Covenant. I have faith in you, though. You can get them all out alive?"  
"I'm determined, ma'am," John answered, "If the Covenant are beginning to glass this place, that means the extraction of their troops. It will be easy ground travel. I'll have my radio on from now on; I doubt I'll get any sleep, so you or the Captain, don't hesitate to contact me for anything. The time matters not to me, if he finds a convenient time for evac us, I don't care if it's 300 hours. We'll be there."

"Alright John," Dr. Halsey said after a pause, "Good luck."

"You know me, ma'am, I have no shortage of that," John allowed himself to smile.

"Of course," she laughed slightly, "I'll see you later."

"Likewise, ma'am."

The radio conversation ended, and John allowed himself to sit in the darkness, not willing his eyes to close. He sat in silence for what must have been an hour, and slowly he saw the darkness around him receding as sunset was approaching. But it wasn't that close, hours off still.

However, he felt a movement on his lap, and glanced down, to see Renee looking up at him. She had rolled onto her back, still allowing herself to rest her head on his lap. He watched her features change through the darkness as she squinted at him, unsure if he was awake, not willing to say anything in case he was. John moved his head slightly.

"I'm awake," he said in a quiet whisper.

"I figured," she whispered back, smiling slightly, but it faded, "You didn't even try to sleep?"

"I tried, but it didn't work very well. I just got radio contact from the _Hercules_, Captain Thomsen and Dr. Halsey."

"News?" Renee asked sleepily.

"I'll tell you in the morning," he said, "Go back to sleep. You need every moment of it."  
"It is the morning," she smirked softly.

"Come here," John sighed, motioning for her to sit on his lap. She quietly crawled onto his lap, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her close to him as possible – one arm around her shoulders and the other tucked under her knees. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. He could tell by how lazily she moved that she still was tired. She'd be fast asleep in another minute or so.

"I wish you didn't have your armor on right now," she muttered sleepily, her eyes closed, "You're much warmer than this cold metal."

John smirked, but he didn't say anything. Her helmet had fallen off at some point, so he took this opportunity to stroke her hair. Although he couldn't feel it properly with his gloves, he imagined how it felt against his fingers. Even in its messy and tousled state, he knew her hair wouldn't fail to feel soft. His mind wandered, and he recalled how soft her skin felt too… how wonderful it had felt in the forest on Reach, when they had nothing between them – just skin on skin.

With these thoughts on his mind, John was asleep himself before he knew what had happened.

* * *

John was jolted awake when he heard an impatient voice in his ears. His head shot up off his chest where it had fallen, and his eyes flew open – his mind registering the voice that was coming through his radio. So he _had_ fallen asleep.

"117!" It was Thomsen, impatience ringing in his voice.

"Sorry sir," John muttered sleepily, trying to shake it off, "I guess I might've been a bit tired. It's not like me. How long have you been trying to contact me?"

"Not long," Thomsen answered calmly, "I can understand your exhaustion, 117. Don't worry about it. I hate to interrupt but I've got an evac option. The Covenant are backing off, we could get a Pelican to you in an hour. I've gotten Keira to get a holographic map of the city; we've pinpointed your location. The parking lots to the east of the mall, there's enough space for the Pelican to land. That evac point sound good enough for you?"

"Sounds great," John felt relief go through him. He had been dreading a long trek across the city to an available LZ. He smiled, "We can get there no problem. You've almost made it too easy."  
"I know you like challenges, but this time, I think you deserve a break," Thomsen replied, "They've already begun to glass the city, starting from the south – a new approach this time, but I suppose the Covenant have no real specific plans when it comes to destroying a planet. As long as it's destroyed in the end, I suppose they don't have a care in hell."

"You're right there, sir," John agreed, "They aren't close to our location, are they?"

"Relatively close," Thomsen thought for a moment, "About ten miles or so, but we'll get you out just in time. You won't have to worry."

"Thank you sir," John told him, "You have no idea how easier this makes things, but then again I have no problem with a challenge. But like you said, I need a damned good break."  
Thomsen laughed heartily.

"Yes, Master Chief. We all do. See you in an hour."

"Yes, sir," John answered, and he shut off the radio, and looked around the little place, which was almost fully lit with daylight – but was at that hazy point where everything looked black and white – almost too tranquil to disturb, but he had the job of getting everyone up.

He looked down to Renee, who he still held tightly in his arms. She was sound asleep and he would hate to wake her. He took a moment to appreciate the look on her face, one of absolute peace and relaxation. Her long eyelashes fluttered when he gently shook her by the shoulder, and slowly her eyes opened. She instantly looked up to him, seeming to wake quickly – as if she hadn't been sleeping soundly at all.

"Morning," she smiled slightly as she stirred in his arms.

"Morning," He replied, smiling behind his visor.

"Time to get up?" she questioned, her voice still sleepy. John nodded, and he allowed her to climb off his lap. For a moment, she flopped back against the wall, closing her eyes, but she forced them open once more, and then John knew she was awake for good. She moved swiftly, grabbed her helmet off the floor and placed it on her head, and grabbed her assault rifle.

"Want me to wake them up?" she questioned, gesturing to Amy and Troy. Troy was snoring, though it was muffled. He'd rolled over onto his stomach since John had last seen him and had his head buried in his arms. John looked back to Renee, who had already forced herself to her feet, and nodded.

Renee walked over to Amy, and bent to shake her by the shoulder. She'd barely touched her, when Amy responded.

"I'm awake!" Amy snapped irritably from beneath her helmet, "Don't damn well shake me."

Renee stepped backwards from the grouchy Amy, glancing back at John and making a face at him. He chuckled. Amy stirred, but dropped an f-bomb under her breath, and shoved her helmet up properly on her head. She looked around the room, glared at Renee's back as she was approaching Troy, but looked to John across the room and smiled.

"Mornin' sexy," she greeted him, stretching her arms out in front of her.

"Good morning," John answered, sighing at her choice of words. Typical Amy.

Renee laughed slightly at her friend's comment (she wished she could've said it first), but kneeled down beside Troy, and shook him. He let out a loud snore, and Amy's laughter rang through the still morning air. Renee shook him again, calling his name.

"Troy," she said softly, her voice growing sharper as she continued, "LT, Lieutenant Fisher, you crazy bastard, wake up!"

"Nice wake up call," he mumbled sleepily, "Wish you were my alarm clock every morning."

Amy let out a howl of laughter, already in her good mood. Almost directly afterwards, was the sound of John clearing his throat. It might've been a muffled chuckle, but if he had found anything funny, it would have been Amy's obnoxious laughing, not Troy's comment. Renee chewed on her lip, staring at Troy's still form.

"Beg your pardon?" she asked sharply, giving him a shove.

"Oh," Troy raised his head from his arms slightly, peeking out at her, "Outa protocol. Sorry RenRen. Half asleep, was havin' a dream." A grin came on his face.

"I bet you were," Amy guffawed from behind Renee.

"Get up already," Renee only said, and she got to her feet and walked back across the room to pick her backpack off the floor. As she swung her backpack onto her back, she looked to Amy, making a face, "How come you're a bitch to me when you wake up but nice to everyone else?"

"You were shaking me," Amy frowned.

John got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. Troy, who was in a really good mood, ran up to Amy to give her a peck on the cheek, "Morning beautiful." He did the same to Renee and said the same words. Renee let out a little groan and wiped her cheek, but Amy let out a theatrical gag, and threw her backpack at Troy, who was laughing, hugging his stomach. It hit him and bounced off, and he continued to laugh, unaffected.

"You little man-whore!" Amy screeched, "Don't ever try that again or I'll kick you right in the nuts! If you have nuts, that is."

Troy just continued to laugh, not minding the threat. He looked to John, who was standing somewhat protectively in front of Renee. He shook his hands at him, his expression disbelieving of John's possessive behavior.

"All in good fun, JoJo," Troy assured him, "Joking, fooling around, etcetera."

"It's fine, John," Renee said lowly to John, gently touching his arm. She held her helmet out to him, "Can you hold this for me?"

John quickly obliged, taking the helmet without question. Renee muttered something about not having a mirror – and all of a sudden; she was looking into John's mirrored visor. He had taken his own helmet off and was holding it at her height. Renee glanced up to him, a smirk coming on her face.

"Convenient," she smiled.

"So that thing does come in handy!" Amy remarked.

Renee quickly took her elastic out of her hair, shook her head, and then tipped her head down to sweep her hair back up into a neat ponytail. She tied it back up quickly, and examined herself in the visor, frowning slightly.

"I need a shower," she muttered, but finished her grooming and thanked John for offering his helmet. He put it back on his head, and handed her back her helmet.

"We all do," John said, "But I've got good news, team. If things all go well we can all be in a shower within the next two hours."

Troy was alert in a second. He paused from picking up his backpack, his mouth hanging open a little.

"You're saying we've got evac coming?" he questioned, looking thrilled.

"In an hour or less," John nodded, feeling good to confirm it, "A Pelican is going to meet us on the east parking lot of this mall."

"Oh, thank god!" Amy exclaimed, "Can't wait to get out of here!"

"So that means we've lost Hydra?" Renee asked on a more depressing note.

"Basically," John explained, "They've already evacuated my Spartans and all other personnel. They were worried when they never heard anything from us, but Captain Thomsen from the _Hercules_ and Dr. Halsey contacted me in the middle of the night – I just got the confirmation and local of our evacuation a few minutes ago."  
"This war has long since gone to hell," Troy announced, "But you know what? I don't care about this any more. I've lost three of my damn good friends and countless of men in my charge and I'm in the right mood to hand in my rank. Fuck 'em, you know. I think I'm going to have an early retirement, either that or a very long vacation."

"Sounds tempting," Amy shrugged, "But if everyone did that, there'd be no one to fight these bastards."  
"Well, it's just me," Troy raised an eyebrow, "I can't take it anymore, I really can't." He bit his lip and shook his head, "It'll be the best thing for me, it really will. I tried to become a good Lieutenant – but losing Josh, Blaine, and Kirk… I'm not the same anymore."  
"Wise decision, Troy," John approved, "We all know our limits. No one will criticize you for leaving."

"You guys should come too," Troy smiled, although Renee saw through it instantly – it was fake. Talking about his friend's deaths was instantly taking its toll on him. She felt bad, but knew, she couldn't leave the UNSC – not when John was still there.

"I would, but…" Amy trailed off, "I think I'm going to stay."

"You too, RenRen?" Troy asked, and she nodded. He sighed, and looked up to John, "Well, I suppose you couldn't even leave if you wanted to."

"Right," John replied. Besides, he hadn't any "home" to go to. What had once been his home world, Eridanus II, had already been glassed by Covenant forces. If he were to have any home, he knew it would be with Renee, but he knew it was a hope he shouldn't dwell on. The war could outlive them both, they could be both long dead and the war would still be raging. It had been going on for ten years already. As Amy once said, what was stopping it from going for another ten, or twenty, or even thirty?

John knew, there was nothing – and even though he couldn't forecast the war, he had a feeling, a quite obvious feeling that this war was far from over. Who would win in the end, however, was unbeknownst to him.

* * *

'Kolsamee's mission had just gotten a whole lot easier for him. The Sangheili was hurrying down the streets of the city, now with a definite hone on the location. Cleverly, he'd been able to intercept the radio transmissions of the Human ship _Hercules _and the Spartan. He'd heard every word, understood every word – and was almost overwhelmed with the adrenaline that was surging through his veins. He couldn't have asked for anything better. The simplicity of his mission now was almost _too _easy for someone of his standing. The location of their evac ship was portrayed – not even on a secure channel that was safe from enemy ears (in this case his). The east parking lot, by this human building called a mall. He'd already been past it already, so he knew exactly where it was. He could get there and basically meet them at their extraction point – and kill them all before the ship would even arrive.

'Kolsamee contemplated contacting 'Malnoonee, or perhaps even 'Vadumee, but he figured it would be best if he kept to himself. After all 'Malnoonee had made it clear that he didn't want to hear from him until it was over. He was, as far as he knew, the only Sangheili left in the city. Everyone else had been recently collected over the past few hours. 'Malnoonee was now taking pleasure in setting fire to the city – a far off scent of scorching earth hung in the air – a rather satisfying smell to 'Kolsamee.

Now that it was drawing nearer, 'Kolsamee was actually beginning to plan how he'd kill them. No doubt about it, he'd have to go for the Spartan first, or try his best to pick the others off (of course savor his girl for the last), and then create some hell for the both of them. John would no doubt be enraged, and act crazily – and 'Kolsamee he would be dealing with a human that was as strong as he, perhaps stronger. It would take wit, speed and strength to deal with him – to stay one step ahead of the Spartan at all times. From what he'd heard from other Sangheili about the other Spartans, they were reckless – and didn't hesitate to fight them with their bare hands alone. They weren't afraid of anything.

But the other Spartans hadn't gone through what John had, and would. 'Kolsamee had nearly strangled his human girl the first time, before he was even aware of her connection to him. This second time, 'Kolsamee planned to waste no time with petty strangulations; he would inflict definite injury that she couldn't walk away from, injury that would eventually cause her death but not instantaneous death. He would make both her and John suffer – and they wouldn't be able to save each other. The both of them would die, and so would the other two marines that were accompanying him.

'Kolsamee paused for a moment – when an image of the little boy flashed into his mind – and all of a sudden his previous thoughts seemed sadistic and evil – they seemed _wrong_. 'Kolsamee made a strangled noise, and shook his head. He was corrupt, his mind was corrupt – he couldn't forget that along with four human deaths, there would also be his own. He couldn't live, not after sparing lives. Even before the boy, he'd spared the life of that red haired human girl, Amy. Amy was accompanying the Spartan– but 'Kolsamee would make sure she wouldn't get a second chance. He shouldn't have let her live the first time. He shouldn't have let the boy or those humans in that building live either. They all should be _dead_, but they weren't.

He felt sick – maybe it had something to do with that he'd last eaten the day before, but 'Kolsamee doubted it. There was definitely something wrong with him if he wasn't able to kill humans without hesitation, let alone pausing to allow them to plead for mercy at his feet. He felt disgusted with himself, and was determined; that as a last personal honor, he would be able to carry out the assassination, complete the mission. Then he could find his own eternal peace, perhaps.

* * *

In the hour they had to wait, John, Renee, Troy and Amy sat around in the main lobby of the mall and talked to pass the time. Of course, there were no problems with potential lack of conversation topics, for when they weren't talking about anything in particular, Troy had something to do or say that made everyone laugh. He'd quickly recovered from his bout of sadness (or just covered up as John firmly believed). John was somewhat reassured though, that Troy had actually come out and admitted, although not in exact words that he wasn't fit to be in the services anymore. After all that Troy had been through, John couldn't blame him for wanting to leave.

John was standing beside the bench that Renee and Amy were sitting on. Troy was walking around, hands in his pockets and whistling a tune to himself. He was trying purposely to be a goof, the act more directed towards his own self, John observed. Troy was itching to get off the planet, perhaps a little more than anyone else. It was obvious that his mood was see-through; his true feelings were far from being happy.

Renee and Amy were talking a little amongst themselves, casually, and Amy was more than willing to help Troy keep the morale, or at least everyone's laughter, raised. She was in one of her psychotic moods that Renee had long since grown accustomed to – but not always enjoyed, especially when Amy had something to tease her about.

"I just remembered!" Amy chirped, looking up to John, "Never got a chance to ask you buddy, I asked Renee but she didn't tell me much. I got her opinion, now I want yours. How was… your little alone-time on Reach?" She winked, and would've said it in a more up-front way if it weren't for Troy being there. Troy was too wrapped up in keeping himself properly composed that he didn't even listen anyway.

John let out a little chuckle, shaking his head.

"You better answer me," Amy threatened him, "Or I will kick you."  
"I'm frightened," John scoffed, obviously not the least bit intimidated, "You'd break your foot."

"Answer me!" Amy frowned, pouting like a little girl.

Renee was frozen, waiting for John's response – she actually found herself wanting him to say something. She just looked down at the floor, holding her face in her hands, trying not to laugh. John still didn't respond.

"What do you want me to say, Amy?" He finally questioned her calmly, "What type of satisfaction does it give you by hearing me tell how I…"

"I just want to know!" Amy interrupted, "Renee already told me. You can too."

"Best thing of my life," John said quickly, all in one breath, and it took Amy a moment to register that he'd actually answered her. She blinked a couple of times, staring at him, her mouth agape. Renee's face turned red and she just started to laugh, covering her face with her hands.

"Was it now?" Amy asked, trying not to laugh herself, "Well honestly, I bet it was. Renee was one hell of a lucky girl to be able to have you, John. You're one fine anatomical specimen of a young man, I bet."

The big words didn't throw John off, he actually understood her better. Behind his visor, he felt color come to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. He didn't like anyone really talking about his relationship with Renee, especially this far. Dr. Halsey was the only one he could truly trust, and even then he felt embarrassed.

Amy just smiled at him, and John figured it would be best if he didn't reply. He glanced down at Renee, who looked embarrassed as well, and for a moment he felt foolish – did he embarrass her by saying what he said? He told the truth, after all it's not like he was going to say he hated the experience. That would've been impossible.

"What's so funny?" Troy questioned, sauntering over to them, attracted to the laughter. He looked from Amy, to Renee, avoiding John's visor altogether for it portrayed no clues to help him figure it out. Renee and Amy both shook their heads immediately, and Amy snorted.

"Nothing you would want to know, trust me," she answered.

"Probably not, knowing your sense of humor," Troy raised an eyebrow, and he looked to John, "It would be about time to set out for that easterly parking lot, what do you say?"

"I was just about to announce that, yes," John gave a curt nod of his head, wiping all unprofessional thoughts from his mind and once again focusing on the mission at hand: meeting the Pelican and getting off this planet alive.

They gathered up their backpacks and weapons and left the mall behind – and walked out into the front parking lot, which was just as barren as the mall itself. Only a couple of cars had been left, probably belonging to the unfortunates who were killed in the mall. The sun was hidden behind low, thick grey clouds that formed a blanket across the sky. The hill the mall was on provided them with a view of the city, and far to the south, the same clouds were flashing light blue and purple hues – almost like lightning. It wasn't lightning, the smell of fire was in the air – it was the city being glassed. The heat had caused fog, and that part of the unfortunate city had been enveloped in it, along with flames – as it was melted under the rays of the Covenant ships. If John looked hard enough, he could see the outline of a large Covenant assault carrier through the clouds as it swept along, scorching the ground beneath it.

"That's not a thunderstorm, is it?" Troy muttered, asking the question he already knew the answer to.

"No," John shook his head. He looked up into the sky above them, for any signs of the incoming Pelican. Nothing yet, and with the clouds it would be hard to see it from far away anyhow. He looked back over his shoulder at his three marine companions – they all looked weary, and ready to leave.

"Let's get to the east parking lot," he commanded, leading the way, glancing up at the sky every few moments, "Keep an eye out for our Pelican."

Renee quickened her pace a little to fall in step with John as they walked around the large building. Several of the windows were smashed in, giving it an eerie look, even from the outside. Everything seemed negative, looked dead and grey. It was like the city was surrendering and silently accepting its forthcoming execution. Something about it just didn't feel right; something was in the air that made Renee walk closer to John than she normally would. She was almost possessed to reach out and grab his hand. A chill suddenly ran down her spine. It was silent except for the far off hissing sounds of the Covenant cruisers, and their own shuffling feet as they made their way across the pavement. She looked around at the surroundings, as they approached what looked to be the middle of the east parking lot. It was completely vacant of cars, and like the rest of the city, looked barren and dead. She glanced up to the sky, but only saw the swirling clouds. She strained to hear anything unusual. She heard nothing – and the calm aura was suddenly shattered when John whipped around. His quick movement scared her, and she jumped. Everyone else stopped walking.

"What?" Renee asked, her heart having made an extravagant jump into her throat. She looked around wildly, then up to John's orange visor. She wished she could see his face behind it, it would be so comforting.

"I heard something," John said, his voice so low that she could barely hear him. He raised his assault rifle, ever so cautiously – it reminded her of back on Earth, when she'd watch her cat outside stalking a backyard bird. The movements so slow, each one carried out with absolute control.

Renee looked to Troy, whose mouth was hanging open ever so slightly. He made eye contact with her then flickered to John.

"I heard it too," he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't hear anything," Amy said quietly, although by now everyone was on guard. Renee, as she looked around, she realized how wide in the open they were – a perfect place for an ambush. This only made her heart beat wilder in her chest.

Troy slowly gestured to his right, where the pavement ended with a guard rail and a rocky hill sloped down to the highway below, and he pointed, nodding ever so slightly. John nodded back, giving him the go-ahead, and slowly Troy made his way across the parking lot, assault rifle ready to fire. He came to the guard rail, peered over, and after a moment, turned back to look at John, Renee and Amy.

"There's nothing," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

That's when, at the same time, or so it seemed, everyone but Troy caught the shimmering behind him as the air appeared to blur. The yell that came from John was so loud that was almost deafening.

"TROY!"

It was too late. Out of thin air, a bolt of blue, sizzling plasma soared through the air, not far behind him. It seemed to be in slow motion, as one, two, three shots hit Troy in the back. There looked to be a fountain of blood that spewed from the wounds. A loud piercing shriek tore through the air, and it took Renee a second to realize it was her own. She felt weak, and watched in horror as Troy stumbled forwards, clutching at a gaping wound that hadn't been there seconds before. His face was one of shock, bewildered pain. A single groan escaped his lips, before he collapsed onto the pavement – his knees giving out beneath him. Before she could think straight, she ran forwards to Troy, screaming, tears blurring her vision. She heard John yell something, but couldn't make it out.

"No!" it was a pathetic shriek as she dropped to her knees beside him, but Renee knew there was nothing she could do. She frantically looked at the blood that was pooling out across the pavement – Troy's blood. Her friend, her good friend, he was dying right in front of her. She forced herself to make eye contact with him. She could tell that the life was rapidly leaving him, with each heart beat.

"RenRen," Troy said, his voice cracking. His eyes didn't meet hers; they were looking off someplace far. His lips trembled, "Dammit… I… didn't see…"

Renee couldn't help the onslaught of tears that ran down her cheeks. She let out a choked sob, and willingly took his bloody hand. Troy knew he was dying, too. He sucked in a ragged breath, and glanced down to himself, trying to make a gesture.

"The picture…" he gasped, "Pocket… the picture…"

Renee bit her lip, letting out another suppressed sob. She heard John and Amy saying something frantically – Amy sounded like she was crying. Troy reached with a shaky, bloodied hand into his breast pocket and took out the picture from the photo booth. He crammed it into her fingers, his movements weak.

"You can't die on me," Renee squeaked, shaking her head.

"I'm… gonna… get my break…" Troy gasped, "But… I'm sure gonna miss you, Renee."

For the last moment, his voice was strong, it sounded normal – like he had never been shot. Like he wasn't dying…

Those were the last words Troy said.

Renee watched the life leave his eyes, and she let out a scream, clenching the photo in her hands. She screamed again, and again, each one louder than the next. She fell forwards onto the pavement, covering her face with her hands. The sobs wracked her body.

All of a sudden, she heard a scream that wasn't her own – but Amy's. She opened her eyes, and rolled onto her back, sniveling. She looked up, and felt fear shoot through her. A giant, black armored Elite stood over her. In one hand, it grasped the plasma rifle that had killed Troy. In the other, it held a sizzling energy sword. Its eyes, burning yellow with hatred and pure sadism, she recognized instantly. It was the same Elite that had tried to strangle her.

Letting out a chuckle, 'Kolsamee discarded his plasma rifle, and reached down towards the sobbing human before him. He had barely grasped her, when he saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye, and a loud human yell. He knew what was coming, and 'Kolsamee didn't even brace himself as he felt the Spartan's body collide with his own, knocking him clean off his feet.

John crashed onto the pavement with 'Kolsamee, pinning him down. He slammed the Elite's wrist against the ground, squeezing, trying to make him let go of the energy sword. 'Kolsamee snarled, and with one hand dragged his claws down his mirrored visor, as if he was attempting to tear it right off his face. John punched him, a dazing blow that sent 'Kolsamee seeing stars. He dropped the energy sword in surprise. 'Kolsamee wasn't about to give up, being weaponless didn't faze him. He grabbed John by the shoulders, finding them awkward he then grasped for his neck. There was shift in weight and 'Kolsamee kicked John off of him, grasping his energy sword off the ground in a split second. John rolled just in time to avoid being stabbed. John let out another yell, and tackled the alien again, dropping his assault rifle. He grabbed it around the long, reptilian throat with both hands, and squeezed, meanwhile kneeing the alien in the stomach. 'Kolsamee made a gargling noise.

John was enraged.

"How does it feel?" he snapped, watching as he panicked. He knew exactly who the Elite was. It was the same one who had tried to kill Renee. Now he had killed Troy, and was trying to kill them all. 'Kolsamee snarled, but John applied more pressure, cutting him off. 'Kolsamee writhed, surprised. So he was strong.

"I said, how does it _feel_!" John's voice cut through the air. He slammed 'Kolsamee's head off the ground. 'Kolsamee's vision was blurring, but that's when he recalled the energy sword in his hands. He swiped the energy sword, and there was a sizzling noise as the blade made contact with the titanium. It melted. John glanced to his shoulder, and saw the energy sword cutting its way through his armor. He clenched his teeth, but focused on squeezing 'Kolsamee's neck. He applied pressure, but so did 'Kolsamee. John felt the burning blade touch his skin, and he let out a strangled yell as he saw blood spurt from the breach in the armor, dark red blood. John knew that if he didn't let go, the alien might cut off his entire arm. He made eye contact with the Elite, its strange demented eyes burning right into him. It looked like it was enjoying this.

John rolled off 'Kolsamee, but in a split second had grabbed him by his arm, and wrenched it back. There was a sickening crack as the bone snapped, and 'Kolsamee let out a howl, throwing his head back into the air. Purple blood sprayed into the air, and 'Kolsamee had to drop the energy sword.

"That's right," John snapped, "It hurts, doesn't it. You trying to kill me? You trying to kill Renee? It's not going to damn well happen!"

'Kolsamee let out another yowl as John twisted his arm further, and a several other cracks sounded – but then he let go. 'Kolsamee stumbled forwards, his left arm now twisted and broken beyond use. He could taste blood in his mouth. All of a sudden, 'Kolsamee felt a burning pain he never knew possible. Blood, his own blood, was suddenly pouring out of his body. He looked down, to see the energy sword emerging from his own chest – John then jerked it back out of him, and 'Kolsamee fell into a puddle of his own blood.

John kicked him, and the Elite couldn't even scream. He kicked him again, and again – and then he dropped down to the ground, so he could look directly into the creatures eyes.

"You're making one mistake if you think you could ever, ever _screw_ with me," John snarled through clenched teeth.

'Kolsamee felt the blood leaving him, his life leaving him. His breaths were becoming difficult. He looked away from the faceless monster above him, unwilling to believe that he had failed. That's when he saw John's assault rifle, lying just in his reach. The Spartan was too preoccupied with staring at him to notice. 'Kolsamee saw the girl, John's girl, watching John. The both of them – too preoccupied. Kill the Spartan? Or kill the girl? 'Kolsamee chuckled, despite his throat being thick with blood. He knew this would be his last, final favor to the Covenant. He might not be able to complete the entire mission, but at least he would be able to complete _half _of it. He steadily aimed the weapon at the less protected of the two lovers, and pulled the trigger.


	39. Luck

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

**[MAY 7****th****, 2535 ****–**** EPSILON HYDRA SYSTEM, PLANET OF HYDRA]**

The shots echoed through John's ears, and lingered. Almost instantly, he felt a chill go through him as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over his head. After the gunfire stopped, he heard a strangled cry of pain – it was human. John slowly looked down to 'Kolsamee, to watch the alien take its last breaths – a chuckle lingering beneath them. In its last dying seconds, John saw a clear expression portrayed on the Elite's face. Satisfaction was aglow in its eyes, and it was if he could almost read them – "Take that", they almost seemed to say. Then, as quickly as the expression came, it faded – and along with it, the life from its body. It died, its eyes growing distant and dull. To John, the world seemed to stop, as he turned his head, and allowed his eyes to travel up to 'Kolsamee's hand that was still clenched around his own assault rifle. Hearing his heart thudding in his ears, John forced himself to turn around, and instantly, he felt his heart jump into his throat and his stomach do a sickening lurch within him. The uncontrollable yell that came out of him echoed across the barren parking lot.

"_NO_!"

Renee had been the one to take the shots. Everything seemed to move at a snail's pace as he watched her, her face contorted into one of shock, her uniform soaking through with blood as she stumbled backwards, clutching at the bullet holes that now riddled her body. Amy hurried to catch her, and John bolted up off the ground, his heart pounding. _No, this couldn't be happening. _They reached her at the same time, and John managed to slip his arm beneath her to soften her landing, seconds before she collapsed onto the pavement. Amy was covering her mouth, speechless – her eyes welling up with tears.

"Renee!" John said to her, gazing down at her pale face, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she looked up at him, her mouth moving but unable to form words, only a weak gasp of pain. Her hands shook violently as they moved across her chest, feeling the bullet-holes torn in her uniform and the warm, rushing blood that came out of them. Panicking, John switched on his intercom, shouting, "This is John-117! We need immediate assistance! Renee is down, I repeat, we need immediate assistance, over!" He abandoned the idea, knowing that the Pelican couldn't come any faster than it already was. _God dammit, this couldn't be happening._

His eyes glanced down the length of her body, she was riddled with bullet holes, and judging by the amount of blood, he realized with horror that the bullet proof vest hadn't done its job – the bullets had sliced right through it. He tore his eyes away from her wounds and up to her terrified face. He whipped his helmet off, tossing it aside – it clunked off the pavement noisily, giving her the privilege to see him, to see his emotion – fear and dread – that was written across his sweat covered face. Her own was a chalky white, and a cold-sweat had broken out on her forehead, her eyes seemed far off and darted from him to the sky, to Amy, to all around as she struggled painfully for each breath. She was going into shock.

"John," Renee finally managed to croak out – and somehow, she forced herself to smile, a weak, pain-filled smile, but a smile none the less. A smile he knew and loved. _Sweet Jesus, how did he let this happen? _She reached up with a trembling, bloody hand to touch his face – but she couldn't make it that far, however, John took her hand and held it to his face, helping her. Her hand, sticky with blood and clammy against his skin, but it was the same hand he'd held so many times. _No, no, this wasn't happening. He'd just wake up and it'd be a nightmare. _Something was wrong with Renee's vision – for a moment it was blurry. Sucking in another breath, Renee focused on his features – John's handsome face above hers. His deep-set eyes looked even darker now, but were wide with fear. His cheeks were colored from exertion – the fight with the Elite that she had been watching, his forehead beaded with sweat, and the underlying signs of facial hair lurked on his chin. His mouth that she had kissed so many times was open with concern, and was that blood she saw running down his cheek? A cut? It was uncertain, she blinked and it was gone again, but with another blink it was back. There was something wrong – she felt cold, she knew what had happened to her – but surprisingly, she didn't feel pain. It had been dull force that the bullets had struck her, or so it felt, each one had jerked her back with a blow that felt like a punch. She knew she was bleeding, she could feel it. Warm, sticky blood – it seemed to be everywhere. Was she dying?

John felt a lump in his throat, frustration welling up inside of him. He couldn't help her, he wanted to help her, but he knew, there was nothing he could do right now. He bit his lip hard, forcing himself to return the smile that she had so casually given him. He watched her face, her beautiful face – covered in sweat, dirt, and now blood. Her eyes, he could see pain in her eyes – eyes that fluttered perilously every few seconds. Those beautiful eyes he'd gazed into more times than he could remember. _Oh God, please, this couldn't be happening._ John wasn't going to let her close them.

"Look at me, look at me," he ordered her, nodding as if to assure himself everything was okay, but his voice failing to remain strong, "Keep looking at me, okay?"

Renee nodded ever so slightly, for John knew that even that small movement was hard for her. God love her, she kept looking at him, although he knew her body was probably telling her to close them. She was in shock, she was … his mind couldn't muster the word.

From beside him, John heard Amy let out a choked sob. A glance to her, he saw she was hunched over, her face red from crying. She shaking ever so slightly, trying to remain composed. It wasn't working.

"I… can't feel anything," Renee whimpered, her voice weak with the pain. She choked on a sob herself, tears running in noticeable streaks down her cheeks, "John, I… don't feel…"

John clenched his jaw, feeling his eyes smarting with tears, and looked up to the grey sky, for any signs of the Pelican. It should be here by now. He looked back down, and saw Renee's blood was beginning to pool around her body. He put his hand to her wounds, to try and stop the bleeding, but there were so many. It was impossible. _Why, why was this happening?_

"Is it dead?" she asked breathlessly, by it she meant 'Kolsamee.

"Yes," John nodded, forcing another smile to come on his face, "It's dead."

"How bad am I?" Renee demanded, looking beyond him up into the sky, "I know it's bad."

It hurt John to gaze down the length of her body again, to see the blood, her torn uniform where the bullets had gouged their way right through it into her skin. It was soaked red, impossible to tell that it once had been of a camo green color. He couldn't tell her the truth, he couldn't bear to tell her that her body was riddled with bullets, how many, he couldn't be sure. A dozen, at least. _A dozen. _The lump that had been growing in his throat suddenly got larger, making it difficult to even speak.

"You just stay awake, alright? Keep looking at me," John tried to sound encouraging, but even he could hear the falseness in his voice, the fear. Renee nodded ever so slightly, looking into his eyes – but glanced away momentarily to look up at the sky, then to him again. Taking a couple of deep breaths she managed, a splash of happiness sweeping across her pained features, "The…Pelican!"

John's head whipped up to the sky, and saw it, coming in – flying down towards them out of the clouds. It was a savior. He'd never been so happy to see a Pelican in his entire life.

"That's it, Renee, stay with us, we're getting you help," John told her immediately, clutching her hand, "The Pelican's on its way."

"I… what's…" Renee stammered nonsensically – she was lapsing into unconsciousness. John watched as a little trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, and he shook his head in disbelief. _Oh God, he couldn't lose her._

"Renee, you have to stay awake!" he was growing panicked. From inside his helmet, even as it was lying several feet away in the dirt, he heard the beeping – of her vital signs dropping, "Look at me, look right at my eyes, talk to me, talk to Amy…"

"Amy?" Renee's voice was small, and she turned her head slightly to find her friend's face.

"Yeah, I'm here, Renee," Amy answered, her voice choked with sobs. It was all she could manage. She could barely look at her friend.

"Troy?" clearly she was delirious, tears rolling down her cheeks, "Where's Troy?"

John and Amy exchanged glances as Renee continued to weakly ask for him. This was something, they knew, they couldn't tell her either. John glanced up, to Troy's body, lying several feet away.

"Hurry up dammit!" John shouted, glancing up to the Pelican as it slowly began its decent to the ground, slowing its thrusters. He looked to Amy, "Go, get in the Pelican. I'll take Renee."

Amy nodded numbly, and got to her feet, running towards the Pelican as it hovered, waiting for them. A medic thankfully was there. John heard Amy frantically filling him in as she jumped inside and John looked down to Renee.

"If I hurt you, I apologize," he told her.

She was too dazed to comprehend his words, but nodded slightly. Putting on his helmet, he slipped one arm beneath her shoulders, and the other beneath her knees, and lifted her, getting to his feet. Renee loudly whimpered, but then was still, her eyes fluttering closed. John bolted towards the Pelican and jumped in.

"That's everyone!" he shouted up to the pilot, "Get us out of here!"

He turned to the medic, who was already looking at Renee in his arms.

"What happened to her?" he asked, as the Pelican's rear hatch closed and the Pelican sped away from the ground. John gently laid Renee down onto the floor, her blood already smearing the floor around her. Amy was huddled in the corner, her face buried in her hands – now crying hysterically. John and the medic were on the floor with Renee.

"She was shot by an Elite, it used my assault rifle," John heard the grief in his own voice, the horror of what happened slowly sinking in. He watched as the medic quickly grabbed the first aid kit off the wall of the Pelican. John continued, his voice, and his hope, growing faint, "There must be… at least a dozen bullets…"

"There's not much I can do here," the medic replied quickly, all professional now, "Except to keep her awake and try and stop the bleeding."

"How bad is she?" John asked, his hands shaking. Renee was unresponsive now, her head rolling back and forth, and her eyes fluttering. Every once and a while, she muttered something under her breath.

"She's in shock – and rapidly losing consciousness," The medic said, his features, despite the situation were calm and controlled. He was pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Renee!" John shouted, cupping her face in his hands, "Stay awake! Look at me, don't give in! Just keep talking."

He was frantic as the beeping in his helmet never let up – her vitals were dropping each and every second. Her head rolled in his hands; she was losing her fight with consciousness. Then, suddenly, Renee's eyes opened fully for one moment, and she gasped in a big breath of air – her eyes wide and searching. She found his visor, and then her shaky hand reached out for his – and he grabbed it. Her grip was loose, weak.

"I love you." She said high-pitched, in one breath.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Everything moved in a daze for John once they arrived aboard the _Hercules_. Doctors were waiting with a stretcher, and they loaded Renee into it, her blood staining the white sheets. Her limbs were limp and her heart barely beating. Amy and John, hurried along with the stretcher as they whisked her to the medical bay – but the two of them were told to wait outside the surgery doors. The doctor's words from the other side of the door were frantic and buzzing, although controlled at the same time, and Amy couldn't bear to take the stress. She broke down, sliding down the wall and curling up into the fetal position, hiding her face. John looked at her, not moving, his heart pounding wildly in his ears. He was still in shock, the whole incident had happened so quickly. He stood in silence outside the surgery doors – breathing heavily, his adrenaline pumping through him, fear abundant in his emotions. He wanted to say something to Amy, to try and comfort her, but he knew he wouldn't even be able to speak at the moment. Slowly, he turned, and walked away from the doors, out of the medical bay. He was numb, each footstep was heavy and his body felt useless. Even as he walked away, his helmet wouldn't let him forget. Renee was dying – he could see her life leaving her on his vitals…

With a loud yell, John stopped, tore the helmet from his head and threw it down the hallway. It cracked off the wall and rolled – right towards someone's feet – a pair of civilian shoes. Distraught, John followed the shoes up to their owner, and he saw Dr. Halsey, standing there in her lab coat, blouse and skirt.

He stood motionless, looking at her for a moment. Dr. Halsey, for once looked truly shocked, but not because he'd thrown his helmet. She looked at John in silence. He was standing there, his helmet off, his usually controlled face contorted into so much emotion – his lip was quivering, his eyebrows bunched up, his entire face was covered in sweat. His armor, from his chest to his toes, was smeared with bright red blood, Renee's blood.

"John," Dr. Halsey said in a low whisper, not wanting to raise her voice any higher.

John looked at her, pain written clearly across his features. Then he looked down to himself, his bloody hands, his chest, where he had walked was leaving bloody foot prints. He let out a strangled breath, and the Doctor could only watch as John crumpled to his knees before her, his hands held close to his face. He doubled over; letting out a noise she hadn't heard from him before.

She watched his shoulders quiver – with what she realized was suppressed sobs. John was crying.

"I failed her!" it was a yell that echoed and sliced right through her ears, although Dr. Halsey didn't startle. John's voice choked and grew softer, "I failed to protect her, Dr. Halsey… I failed to protect her…"

Dr. Halsey slowly walked towards her Spartan, and dropped to her knees in front of him, setting her hands on her lap. She looked at his head, which he kept low and his face hidden from her – his hands almost touching his face – hesitating inches away, his fingers curled and grasping, like he wanted to tear his entire face from his skull.

"John, you…" she reached out to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away.

"No, it's my fault. She's…" a sob, "Dying, Dr. Halsey! I should've protected her!" John fully broke down, and she audibly heard him sobbing. Never before had she seen John cry, let alone sob. His whole body was shaken with them. After a few minutes, he slowly raised his face to look at her. His face was scrunched up, cheeks wet with tears, "What am I… what am I even doing?" he sounded confused, hurt, bewildered, "Forgive me, Dr. Halsey! How can I… call myself a Spartan, if I can't even protect one girl? I can't lose her, Dr. Halsey… I can't."

Dr. Halsey swallowed a lump in her throat, not knowing what to say. She couldn't bear to look in his pained eyes and looked down to the floor.

"I should've known," John was rambling now, "I was there, the gun, it was right in its reach… and I didn't even think, I allowed it to shoot her! First, first it was Troy. Now, Renee. I can't lose Renee," he repeated it again; "I can't lose her."

Halsey bit her lip, and then shimmied closer to John, and slowly, gently, she wrapped her arms the best she could around him, not caring that he was covered in blood. She felt John stiffen, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Cautiously, she felt John return the gesture, his big arms wrap around her in a hug.

He sniffled, but said nothing.

"I'm so sorry, John," Dr. Halsey sighed, feeling his arms were not about to let her go. This was the first time she'd ever hugged one of her Spartans, but right now she knew no other way to possibly try and comfort him. He was a mess, probably even more confused by crying than he had been by feeling love. Renee was in surgery, with life threatening injuries – she'd heard the panic in the doctors' voices.

"I promised I'd protect her," John's voice was low, controlled, "I promised."

"You couldn't have prevented what happened, John," Dr. Halsey told him, "You aren't faster than bullets." John stiffened again, and slowly pulled away from her, meeting her eyes. Despite his nose being red and his eyes slightly puffy, John's expression was once again controlled. He'd forced himself to stop crying.

"I could've been." His voice was determined, "It should be me in there, not her! Not Renee."

"The _Hercules_ has good doctors, John, real good doctors. They won't let her die," she answered, meaning ever word, "I won't let her die."

John's expression changed, only a little – his eyebrows raised.

"You're going in?" he asked.

"I will, yes," Dr. Halsey nodded, "I wouldn't normally, but I will, for you; for Renee."

"Thank you."

They both got to their feet together, John once again towering over her. The front of Dr. Halsey's lab coat was smeared with blood, John noticed, but when she buttoned it up, he knew she didn't care. They made eye contact for a few seconds.

"Don't let her die," John whispered.

Dr. Halsey gave a little nod of her head, and walked past him towards surgery.

* * *

Hours passed, and John spent them waiting faithfully by the medical bay doors – pacing back and forth persistently, like a caged lion. He could hear the voices now, he could pick out Dr. Halsey's from all the others, they were calm, and they were working. John had gotten out of his bloodied suit, taken a shower and gotten into a clean uniform. It should've made him feel better, but he couldn't. Renee was stable; the beeping had stopped in his helmet just before he'd taken it off in the armory.

Amy, who hadn't moved from her spot by the wall, had fallen asleep, or cried herself to sleep. John made sure to keep his footfalls light as to not wake her.

Although the hours seemed to drag on by, John had no problem with passing the time – just by thinking. He replayed the last few minutes on Hydra over and over in his mind, just to the part where Renee was shot. He thought things over, what he could've done that could've possibly saved her. He should have never discarded his assault rifle; he should've never let the alien live longer than necessary. Decapitating the Elite instead of stabbing it with the energy sword would've changed everything – but even then he wasn't satisfied. Troy was dead – and John felt the weight of it on his shoulders as well. John should've expected a stealth Elite, and he let Troy go over to inspect the area – when he should've. The emotions that John had felt when he was with Dr. Halsey were ones he had long since forgotten. Crying, an emotion that had last threatened him eighteen years ago, when he and all his fellow Spartans were informed that they were never to see their parents again. Even then, though, John hadn't cried.

He had broken down so easily, the tears had welled up and the sobs had overcome him before he even knew what to do. It just came naturally, and John somehow wondered if it was anything related to love. Love was natural, did that mean crying was too? He was worried for Renee, the entire stress and fear had built up inside of him until it was like a volcano and it exploded inevitably.

For a while, he was unsure how to feel, Dr. Halsey had been witness to it. He contemplated feeling shame, feeling embarrassment, but none of them worked. He didn't feel anything, he didn't feel regrets. In fact, he felt a little bit better – but only the slightest fraction.

Renee was still in there, having bullets extracted from her body and having herself stitched back together, bones and organs repaired. Something so extreme, the only thing John could compare it to was his own augmentation surgery he'd undergone at fourteen. It was of course, more extreme, but the both of them had been serious. It was a life or death situation, fifty-fifty chance, either you'd live, or you'd die.

And John willed her to live.

* * *

When Dr. Halsey came walking out of the doors to find John, removing a surgical mask from her face, John instantly felt his heart come into his throat. He studied her features, looking for any predictions on the news she had to portray. The both of them were silent for a moment. John saw that Dr. Halsey, in all her surgical gear, she was covered in blood. He didn't know if it was a good sign or not. He had to swallow a couple of times before he was able to speak.

"Doctor?" even then his voice was low, "Is she…"

"She's stable," Dr. Halsey nodded, "Currently unconscious, heavily drugged with morphine, patched up worse than a child's stuffed animal, but the girl's alive. She's got fight, John."

John let out a deep sigh, and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing relief to wash over him. Dr. Halsey continued in her explanation.

"What I found almost unbelievable," she said, "We removed eighteen bullets from her body, and not one of them pierced her heart. I think she shares something in common with you."

"Luck," John breathed, bewildered.

"Yes," Dr. Halsey gave him a little smile, but then got back to explaining, "She lost over two thirds of her blood, and we had to give her an emergency blood transfusion – she's still receiving it, on her third bag. The bullets had pierced her lungs, stomach, liver, intestines, shattered one of her ribs, and chipped one of her spinal discs. For a while, we were unsure if she would be able to walk, but after a full body scan, we discovered her mobility will not be harmed in the long term."  
"As for the short term?" John asked.

"She'll have to rest for a while, until the wounds heal. Bed ridden for at least a month," Dr. Halsey said, "But other than that, it's amazing – although she'll be crisscrossed with scars, she'll have no handicaps when it comes to having a normal life. She will even be able to go back out into the field, if that's what she wants, however, although after such a trauma, it's uncertain if she'd desire to keep fighting or not. Renee just might want to go home."

John nodded, what Dr. Halsey was saying was completely understandable – but the idea of Renee going home was disheartening. It's not like he'd be able to go with her. John was sworn into the UNSC to fight the war, and couldn't even think about leaving until it was over. Even then, he was uncertain as to if they'd let him go. He took a deep breath.

"May I see her?" he questioned, "Even if she isn't awake, I need to see her."

"Yes," Dr. Halsey gave him a little smile, and she gestured for him to follow her, "Come with me."

He walked into the medical bay, following Dr. Halsey down between the rows of hospital beds. Renee wasn't in any one of them, but John's question was answered when Dr. Halsey led him into a side room, which branched off into a more quiet area – the recovery room. All of the beds were separated by curtains for privacy, and they were vacant except for one in the back corner. The curtains were pulled around it fully, and Dr. Halsey gestured ahead with her arm, although John knew who it belonged to.

"Here she is," Dr. Halsey walked up, and parted the curtains. She walked in first and John followed after her, having to duck to not hit his head on the curtain rod. John was breathless when he saw Renee. She was lying on the bed, a blanket pulled up to her hips. She was dressed in a hospital gown, and was hooked up to two intravenous bags, one of them her blood transfusion Dr. Halsey had mentioned. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful – although she had bandages visible on her face and dark circles made her eyes look sunken into her head. She was pale, and a breathing tube was connected to her nose. All around her were machines – the most obvious one was the heart monitor, where it showed her heart beating at a normal, healthy pace.

John walked slowly over to her bedside, and perched himself lightly on the bed. Looking at her face, he placed his hand over hers, it was warm. He glanced to the heart monitor, to see the beats up a few. Behind him, he heard Dr. Halsey chuckle.

"She's responsive, at least," she remarked, "She should be waking up soon, but will be groggy and somewhat delirious. We gave her a lot of morphine." John nodded, and watched as Dr. Halsey took off her rubber gloves and set them on the bedside table, "Oh," she said, remembering, "We found these on her person." She picked up two objects from the table, and set them in John's palm. He looked down and saw it was the necklace he'd given her and the bloodied picture from the photo booth, already looking crumpled. He stared at the picture for a long time, before looking back up to Dr. Halsey.

"This picture, we had it taken in a photo booth," John smiled slightly, "In the mall, last night. Troy… he gave it to her before he died."

"She was good friends with him, wasn't she?" Dr. Halsey asked softly, glancing to Renee.

"Yes," John nodded curtly, "They knew each other since they were children."

"A pity," Dr. Halsey sighed. After a pause, she said, "The necklace, it's expensive…"

"Pink diamond," John said, remembering, "White gold. Means eternal love…"

"You gave it to her," Dr. Halsey was quick to catch on.

"I did," he nodded, "Found it in the mall."

"It's special," she gave him a little smile.

"Well, that's all I can give her," John shrugged, "Although, if this war ever ends, I'll give her whatever she wants. I think of it as a symbol of my promise to her." Delicately, John undid the clasp of the necklace, his big hands surprisingly doing a swift job, and he leaned forward over her. He put the necklace around her neck. Just as he was pulling back, her eyes fluttered. John instantly noticed the response.

He watched in silence, as her eyes slowly opened. She glanced down at herself, and then up to John. A small smile formed on her lips.

"John," she whispered, her voice weak.

"I'm here," John couldn't hold back the smile that spread. He instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand. Dr. Halsey took her rubber gloves from the table and excused herself to give them more privacy.

"I made it," Renee sighed, "What's the verdict…?"

After each sentence she took a deep breath, and tiredness could be heard in her voice.

"They took eighteen bullets out of you," John told her softly, "And not one of them pierced your heart."

"You're joking," Renee let out a weak little chuckle, "That's impossible."

"Its luck," John said seriously, "I honestly thought I was going to lose you."

He leaned forward so that he could reach up and touch her face gently, and slowly, cautiously, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with care. That's what he had missed. For a while, he'd feared that he'd never be able to kiss her again, love her, or hear her talking to him. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms in a great big hug, but he knew he wouldn't be able to.

They broke the kiss, and Renee smiled.

"I love you," she told him.

"I love _you_," John answered, sitting back on the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Groggy," Renee sighed, "Like I'm still half asleep, I can't really feel much more than that."

"They gave you a fair amount of morphine," John explained, "That's probably why. I don't think you'd want to feel anything at the moment. Dr. Halsey said that you will be in bed for at least a month for recuperation…"

"There's nothing wrong with me?" Renee made a face, raising an eyebrow cautiously, "No amputations, disabilities…?"

"No," John shook his head, "You'll be fine."

"I want to say I don't believe you," Renee smiled, "But I suppose I should. It's odd, considering how unlucky I usually am. Where's Amy?"

"Out in the hallway, sleeping," John told her, "She was pretty shaken up by the whole ordeal, and Troy's death…" he stopped short, remembering that Renee had been asking for him, unsure where he was. He looked cautiously to Renee's face, and watched her expression contort into one of confusion.

"Troy's… dead?" she asked, the little color that had been in her face abruptly left. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

"You don't remember?" John asked her softly, squeezing her hand, "He… was shot."

Silently, he reached forward and set the crumpled and bloodstained photograph on her lap. Her mouth fell open a little, as she shakily picked up the photo, and gazed at it for a long time. John could see that it sparked her memory as her eyes welled up with tears.

"I remember," Renee exhaled, biting her lip and closing her eyes. She dropped the photo, and raised her hand to cover the most of her face she could manage. John watched as she tried to hold back from crying, but when she spoke next, her voice was choked, "I thought I'd dreamt it."

John squeezed her hand again, briefly remembering her falling to the ground, screaming when Troy died.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly.

He watched as Renee's body was slowly shaken with sobs. Instinctively, he got up, and walked to the other side of the bed, where, carefully, as to not disturb any tubes or intravenous lines, he climbed into the bed beside her. It was only big enough for him to lie on his side, but that was his priority anyhow. He wrapped his arm gently around her waist, pulling her close. She managed to throw one arm around him, turning her face in towards his chest, pressing it deep into his uniform.

It was inconvenient, the memories that flooded back to her – every single one she'd shared from Troy, early as she could remember. This only made her miss him more, but as well, she didn't forget what he had told her when he'd been dying. He said he was going to get his break, get his vacation. Perhaps, in some way, Troy had finally found peace.

Renee couldn't cry too hard, for, despite the morphine, she felt a slight pain in her torso. She didn't want to know what her wounds looked like – she could only imagine the scars that would now criss cross her body, but she was slightly comforted, knowing that John would love her regardless. Like the necklace symbolized, he'd love her forever.


	40. Final Perils

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

**[May 7****th****, 2535 ****–**** Halcyon Class **_**Hercules **_**- Slipspace]**

Renee had fallen asleep in John's arms, succumbed to the drowsy effects of the anesthetic, and from general tiredness that had eventually overwhelmed her. John, didn't leave her side, but not once did he even think of closing his eyes, he would watch over her. Amy had awoken and came to see Renee, although she was fast asleep upon her arrival. John, however, greeted her with a smile. Amy still had evidence of red, puffy eyes, but when she saw Renee lying peacefully asleep, and the heart monitor boldly stating her survival with a single line of a heartbeat; she had the relief wash over her face and couldn't hold back a smile.

"She made it," Amy said, softly – almost too soft for her personality, and she let out a little sheepish laugh, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. Making eyes at John, she reached out and took Renee's hand, "I guess I was an idiot to think she wouldn't." It only took her a moment for her usual wry remarks to kick in, "You're happy there, John."

"I am," John kept his voice low, for he had allowed himself to lie fully beside her, his head rested on the pillow close to hers, "Have you received the news?"

"Yeah," Amy nodded, "Practically killed Halsey." She grinned, "I woke up as she was passing, I almost tripped her, I grabbed her leg that fast. I demanded she tell me everything," she sighed, "Eighteen bullets, that's something."

"Isn't it?" John chuckled lowly, "After all this time we were remarking on her awful bad luck, she's only proven that she has more than all of us combined."

"Could you've survived that?" Amy raised her eyebrow, "If you hadn't any armor?"

"Hard to say," John replied, "I might be a Spartan, but my heart's still my weak point."

"In more ways than one," a drowsy voice interjected, and both John and Amy looked to Renee, whose eyes were half opened, and she had a little smile on her lips. She moved slightly to peck John on the chin, and then she and John chuckled together. Renee waved at Amy sleepily.

"Hey!" Amy exclaimed, "How are you doing?"

"I'm alive," Renee mused, "As for the rest, I'm too high to know much else."

"Morphine?"

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes, "I feel so weird, like I'm dreaming – hell, I'm waiting to see a polka-dotted elephant to go strolling by."

This got a laugh from everyone.

"Keeps you from feeling the pain," Amy made a point, "From what Halsey explained to me, they did an awful lot."

"I know," Renee sighed, her eyes fluttering.

She looked up to John, and he kissed her forehead in response, and then looked up to see a nurse poking her head in through the curtains. Her cheeks flushed a little, but she entered, all business.

"Sorry to interrupt," she looked apologetic, "But I'm afraid I have to redress your wounds, Ms. Kilburn. That means you two," she looked to John and Amy, "Will have to leave, just for a while. Even if you are her friends, I do believe she'd desire some privacy."

"Of course," Amy stood up, and John carefully got out of the bed, not at all fazed by being caught lying in bed with Renee. He leaned down and gently kissed her, muttering his return. Amy quickly left, but John paused to talk to the nurse.

The nurse, who was shorter than Renee, had to crane her neck to be able to look at his face.

"Sir?" she asked, clearly surprised by his height.

"If anything at all goes wrong, don't hesitate to tell me. Just tell Dr. Halsey, and she'll deliver the message onto me. I don't want to be left out of any detail," John told her.

"Yes, of course, sir," the nurse nodded compliantly, giving him a polite smile.

"And, if you don't mind me asking, when will it…" He began, but the eager nurse was a good mind reader. She quickly interrupted,

"Oh, it won't take more than twenty minutes," she replied, "Okay?"

John nodded, and he muttered a thank you. Just before he ducked out of the curtains, he gave a little wave to Renee. She returned it, and then John left. Amy was waiting for him, and the two of them walked out of the medical bay together.

"How long is it going to take?" Amy questioned.

"The nurse said no more than twenty minutes," John replied.

"This still doesn't seem real," Amy confessed, "I mean, all this happened so fast, Troy's gone, and we almost lost Renee – now she's all stitched up…" she cursed under her breath, "I'm still can't accept that Troy's dead."

John nodded silently, not wanting to say anything.

"He wasn't that bad, ya know?" Amy said, her voice beginning to sound choked up, "I mean, you met him when he was a jerk, and never really got to see how good of a guy he was. What we seen of him in the mall, that was only a fraction of him, of the real Troy. He was a really great guy; the war just screwed him up."

"I think his death… in a way…" John chose his words carefully, "Was his way of getting what he wanted. He wanted peace. He was disturbed since I met him, and each death and each tragedy was like a blow to him – he could've resigned like he said, but he wouldn't have found peace. He was permanently scarred by what happened to him, he was carrying the deaths of his marines on his shoulders. By his death, he was relieved of all that pain."

Amy bit her lip, stopping in the hallway. John looked to her and saw she was on the verge of crying again. She suddenly flung her arms around him.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered, burying her face into his chest, beginning to freely cry. John held her, feeling her shudder as she tried to suppress her sobs. After a few moments, she said simply, "I just want to go home."

* * *

A memorial service was held in the memory of those lost on Hydra, but John and Amy avoided it like the plague. Amy claimed that it would only make her feel worse. She'd cried for the majority of the time, and now, as everyone was headed to the service, she and John were heading back to the medical bay to see Renee. John supportively had his arm around Amy's shoulder, and she still suppressed a sniffle or hiccup, but John could tell by the expression on her face that she was done crying for Troy. She seemed kind of ashamed for crying, as John had always been struck with the idea she was more of a tough woman, who detested sadness, thinking it was a form of weakness.

When John and Amy walked into the recovery room, they were suddenly alarmed by the look of Renee's recovery area. The curtains were askew, and a food tray was lying in the middle of the floor. John instantly grew cautious and concerned, and walked ahead of Amy to the curtains. He walked through them, Amy not far behind. Renee was turned away from them, lying on her side– something John didn't know she could do, but he was more concerned by the sobs that were coming from her. He rushed to her side.

"Renee!" He voice was instantly panicked. He got no response, and Renee's body seemed to be shaken more by suppressed sobs, muffled into a pillow she had pulled in front of her face. Amy came around to the other side of the bed, so that she could try and see Renee's face.

"RenRen, what's…"

"Don't _call_ me that!" it was a high pierced shriek.

Amy met John's eyes, and then muttered an apology to her. Speaking gently, she touched Renee's shoulder:

"Renee, what's wrong, hun?"

"What's wrong!" Renee threw the pillow. Although she was still weak, it managed to bounce off the heart monitor and bounce to the floor, "I'll tell you what's wrong!" The next words were screams, mortified screams that seemed to echo, "I'm _hideous_! I'm absolutely hideous! I look like _Frankenstein!_"

John felt a chill go through him, and although he was willed to move closer, he didn't. Amy once again glanced back over her shoulder, looking concerned.

"No you don't," Amy told her softly, "What are you talking about?"

Renee rolled over onto her back slowly, grimacing from the movement.

"Stitches," she traced lines across her stomach of her hospital gown, "Everywhere. My stomach, my chest, I look like I was pieced back together. I never thought…" she paused to choke back a sob, "I'd look this bad. I need more morphine, I can feel the stitches – they're pulling, I feel…"

"Renee," John finally got his legs to work, and he rushed forwards her. He leaned over her, taking her gently by the chin, forcing her to look at him, "I don't care what you look like. I don't care. You'll be beautiful to me no matter what happens. What do you think I looked like after my augmentations?" he waited for an answer, but Renee couldn't speak. He showed her his arms, "I can show you, you've seen them," he traced long lines up the length of them, then across his chest, down his legs, "Scars. All over my body. When I got my surgery, my eyes bled, my head ached, and sometimes I collapsed and couldn't even lift myself off the floor. I felt the pain, I felt the frustration. I know what you're feeling, but trust me – I had no one to really comfort me, but I'm here to comfort you. I love you, and I'll love you no matter what happens! You could have one leg, no arms and one eye, and I wouldn't love you any less! Understand that. Amy and I, we're both here for you, and we'll always be here for you. I might not always be here in person, but you know that I will always love you regardless."

Renee looked at him, fought back a sob, bit her lip and nodded. She extended her arms out to him and hugged him with as much strength as she could muster. He kissed her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, "Beauty isn't just on the outside."

John pulled back and looked into her teary eyes.

"Thank you," she told him, forcing herself to smile.

* * *

Dr. Halsey was sitting on the bridge with Captain Thomsen, looking somewhat absentmindedly at her laptop and sipping at a cup of coffee. It was strong, almost too strong for her liking, but she didn't complain. She was exhausted from work; the surgery had lasted just over five hours. She hadn't been in surgery for a long time and to complete a lengthy operation on the critically wounded lover of John's had been quite a nerve wracking task. Just recently she had returned from the showers.

"How is she doing?" questioned Thomsen, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room. Dr. Halsey took a sip from her coffee, wincing at the bitter taste, and looked up to him from her computer screen. A little smile came across her face.

"Renee will be fine," she told him, "John was quite upset, in fear of her life, but she's lucky, just like he is. I still find it amazing how she's alive to tell the tale. I suppose you heard the story of the bullets…"

"Eighteen of them, yes," Thomsen nodded, raising his eyebrows, "Indeed, amazing."

"Although she will not be without her fair share of scars," Dr. Halsey sighed, "We did a quite a lot of digging to get all of those bullets out of her. I assume when she sees the stitches she will be in for bit of a shock. We practically had to open her up like you would do in an autopsy. We would've run her through the x-rays first to spot the bullets, but she was bleeding profusely and we couldn't afford to waste even a second."

"John's got a fair collection of scars himself, from what I've seen," Thomsen said.

"Yes, he does," Dr. Halsey nodded, "The fainter ones are mostly from the augmentations, but don't think he hasn't got his fair share of battle scars. Every time I see him he seems to be sporting a new scar. For example, that one on his cheek, just below his eye, he got that in the last year - from what I don't know. He has a helmet, but apparently that time it didn't do him much justice. He's not a fool to take it off, but perhaps he was caught off guard."

"Well he would be able to offer some support to Kilburn," Thomsen remarked thoughtfully, "The two of them have been through similar experiences now. Speaking of John, I didn't see him at the memorial."

"Knowing him he was probably glued to Renee's side, plus his attendance to the memorial would've only succeeded in making him feel worse. Although John may not show it to others, he's feeling a whole lot of grief right now… the deaths of the marines, especially those on Lieutenant Fisher's squad. May he rest in peace."

"Yes," Thomsen muttered, "I was truly surprised by his death. He was a great Lieutenant."

"From what I've come to understand, he wasn't taking the war very well," Dr. Halsey sipped her coffee, "Mentally."

"Oh," Thomsen said softly, "I've seen too many cases of good, honorable soldiers who just lose their minds. A war such as this one seems to have that effect on a lot of people, whether it's minor or major."

"It's a sin," Dr. Halsey replied, "Everything. Hydra's been lost, yet another planet to the Covenant. We lost a lot of good soldiers, and for a moment I thought I was going to lose John. If Renee hadn't survived, I would've hated to see what he would've become. Although it may sound foolish and even unprofessional, Blake, Renee means the world to John. She's the shining star in his otherwise dark life. At first I didn't know what to expect by John falling in love, but it has only made him happier."

"Love seems to do that to everyone," Thomsen chuckled slightly, "Even to Spartans."

"Yes," Dr. Halsey replied quietly, "Even to Spartans."

* * *

Renee, who had begun to feel some pain from her wounds, was given another dose of morphine and it sent her into a dreamlike state, leaving her talking nonsense. She would dive into the past and mutter how things used to be - rather senseless talk, half of it Amy confirmed to John that it never even happened. She eventually grew tired and fell asleep - and John and Amy decided it would be the right time for them to do the same. They had stood and talked with her for at least an hour, and even though John felt the tiredness overwhelming him, he didn't want to leave her side. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her sleep, when Amy tapped on his shoulder.

John jumped, even though he knew it was her. He turned around to look at Amy's weary face.

"We've been up for more than twelve hours," she said, "Considering what has happened during that time, it'd be best to get some shut eye dude."

"I'm not tired," John lied.

"I'm not stupid," Amy was quick to retort with a sarcastic look sprawled across her face, "Renee's stoned out of her mind and fast asleep. You have no idea how bad you look, do you?"

John frowned. He could only imagine… he'd neglected to even look in the mirror when he had been in the showers. He had been so disgusted with himself then, he could have smashed every mirror in sight.

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Frankly, you look dead," Amy's face portrayed the hard truth, "Skin as white as anything, black circles around your eyes, even your cheeks are sunken in. When was the last time you ate?"

John let out a little scoff. His hunger, he'd pushed the growling of his stomach out of his mind long ago. He just shook his head.

"Come to the cafeteria, we'll grab something to eat and then snooze," Amy grabbed his arm, but couldn't even budge it, "You _are_ rock solid," she remarked with a grin, but it disappeared as soon as it came, "You're a stubborn man. Look, Renee will be fine! She's a big girl, John."

John looked one last time at Renee's face before standing up from the bed. He turned to face Amy, giving her a little nod. Amy grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along – although it wouldn't have been possible if John hadn't been willing.

They left the medical bay, and went directly to the cafeteria. John felt a strange feeling wash over him as he took his seat at the table they had all sat at dozens of times before. Amy sat across from him as she usually did, and glanced around at the emptiness of the table.

"We're missing people," Amy said, biting her lip, "Well, I mind as well get used to it." She got to her feet again, "What can I get you?"

"Anything," John muttered, "Food."

Amy was quick, John gave her that. She arrived back with two trays, both piled high with the same amount of food. Packaged bars, a bottle of water, dried fruit and anything else she managed to get her hands on at that specific time of day – there were no specific meals available.

She got quite a surprise, and watched with amazement as John successfully chugged the entire bottle of water in less than five seconds, unwrapped the bars and had them gone in two bites flat, and practically inhaled the dried fruit as if it was oxygen.

"You idiot, you were starving yourself," she remarked as John finished off the last energy bar, looking as if he didn't even chew.

"I didn't have time to eat," he replied, raising his fist to his mouth to suppress a belch, "Excuse me."

Amy couldn't help but laugh.

"You're one of a kind, John," she said, shaking her head and taking a drink of water, "Do you want me to get you something else?"

"No," John shook his head, "I'm good. Do I still look dead?"

"Those black circles under your eyes will not go away by eating food," Amy nagged, "You need sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot – it looks creepy. Your eyebrows don't enhance your expression either, it just makes you look more menacing – like some monster."

"Thanks," John muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"I always tell the truth!" was Amy's excuse, "So, ready to give your eyes a favor and actually sleep, John?"

"Yes," John nodded curtly, although he wasn't even sure if he would be able to sleep. He was tired, but could he actually _sleep_? His body was so accustomed to being awake, he wondered if he would be able to calm his senses enough to actually sleep sound – like how he had been able to sleep whenever he'd share a bed with Renee. If she wasn't wounded, that's where he would go. And maybe then, he'd be able to properly rest.

Amy and John left the cafeteria, but even then Amy didn't stop talking.

"I still can't grasp it, you know," she drabbled, "I mean, I find it hard to believe that everything can change so quickly. Just a few hours ago we were all happy, thinking we were gonna get off that damned planet scot-free, then we lose Troy and have Renee almost join him… it still shocks me."

"That's war for you," John replied, "It can make one really hate it. Losing your friends, companions… and once they're dead, you're burdened with their last moments. You ask yourself, is there anything I could've done to change things? If I had just done this, or done that, would they still be alive?"

"Do you wonder that about Troy?" Amy asked quietly.

"I do," John nodded, "I figured it was mostly my fault. When he went to check the noise, I should've went. I should've expected there to be a stealth Elite, I mean, what else could've it been? If I had been the one to go, Troy would still be alive, Renee would be uninjured."

"But you would've died," Amy frowned, "You can't take the plasma shots Troy did, no one can and live to tell the tale."

"I can't be killed that easily," John said.

"You say it was your fault, but I really think it was mine," Amy told him, "Before you say anything, just listen to me. That Elite, I seen him before; not when he was attempting to strangle Renee, but on Lacerta. He came into our camp… I should've done something. I should've killed him… he should've killed me..."

John looked at Amy in silence.

"It was following us," he said lowly, "That Elite… it…" he clenched his fists, "But there's nothing we can do now. We mustn't dwell on the past. It's over, it's gone by."

They had arrived at Amy's room. She let out a deep sigh, but headed towards her door. They solemnly bid each other good night. When John arrived at his room, he felt odd, and alone. He walked into his old room, it was empty and cold. He had none of his belongings with him this time – they were all on the other ship he'd came here on with his fellow Spartans.

His body guided him towards the cleanly made bed, and he allowed himself to drop weightlessly onto the mattress. His face had barely hit the pillow when he plunged into an immediate slumber.

* * *

John had an unpleasant awakening in the morning. In his subconscious state, he heard the hissing of the doors to his room opening, and then all of a sudden he was jolted awake when a scream pierced through his ears.

"JOHN! COME QUICK!"

He shot up off the bed, to see Amy standing in the doorway. She was wearing only a pair of civilian shorts and a tank top, and her hair wasn't brushed. Her face was streaked with tears, and she was frantic. She waved him forwards.

"What?" John demanded, feeling a dread run through him, as he approached her in record time.

"It's Renee!" Amy barely had the words out of her mouth before John had shoved her aside and rushed down the hallway. She hurried to catch up with him, but it she never could stay in sync with him. John felt his heart beating wildly through his ears as he rushed into the medical bay. Dr. Halsey was there, standing outside the recovery room.

"What's wrong?" John demanded as he approached.

"John…" Dr. Halsey started, but he wasn't in the mood to be swayed or comforted.

"What happened to her!" It was close to a yell as John reached Dr. Halsey, he tried to get around her but the Doctor put herself right in his way, grabbing a hold of him as tightly as she could muster. But it was like trying to restrain a spooked horse.

"John!" Dr. Halsey raised her voice – loud and unexpected. John stopped instantly. She looked into his fearful eyes, "John, calm down."

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling.

"She's not dead," it was a pleading whisper, "Please don't tell me she's dead."

Dr. Halsey bit her lip, shaking her head.

"She's alive," she assured him, keeping her voice low.

"Then what's wrong!" John panicked, backing up from her, clenching his hands into fists, "Dammit, what's wrong with her!"

"During the night," Dr. Halsey swallowed, "Renee fell from her bed. She must've had a nightmare, for we found her lying on the floor, some of her wounds reopened…"

John shook his head in disbelief and pushed past her, and strode into the recovery room. A couple of doctors that were standing outside the curtains surrounding Renee's bed stepped out of his way. John threw back the curtains, nearly ripping them down. He looked to the bed, and saw Renee, lying on the bed. She was still, a bandage around her head. Eyes closed, deathly still.

John let out a ragged breath. He looked to her heart monitor, her heart was beating – but slowly, he noticed. What was wrong with….

"She's fallen into a coma, John," Dr. Halsey's voice was like knives. They struck him with brute force, like a punch to the face. His mouth fell open, and slowly he pivoted on his heel to look past all the other doctors to Halsey, who looked sad. Not far behind her, a bewildered Amy stood almost lifelessly, looking at nothing in particular.

"A coma?" John repeated, his voice sounding far off.

"Yes," Dr. Halsey sighed deeply, "There's a chance… that she might never wake up."

John slowly shook his head in disbelief, wishing it were a dream. The words that came from his mouth sounded not like him.

"No…" it was a plea.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Halsey whispered.

John turned to face Renee. He gingerly walked over and sat down on the bed, grabbing her hand, gazing at her.

"They won't keep her here?" he knew the answer without asking.

"No," the Doctor answered, "We're sending her home. She can no longer serve. Even if she wakes up, she will probably suffer from memory loss and lack of muscle control. This war is over for her."

"Same for me," a strong voice came across from the room, and John knew it was Amy. She took a deep breath, "I'll go with her. I'm not leaving Renee."

John looked back over his shoulder at her and Dr. Halsey. Amy looked absolutely serious, and John wished he could say the same thing, make the same sacrifice, but he knew he couldn't. He made a little nod towards Amy, mentally thanking her. She would be able to watch over Renee. Dr. Halsey didn't object, as of course it wasn't her decision to deny or allow Amy's leaving, but knowing Amy, John guessed that she'd just leave with Renee without a word to anyone.

He looked back to Renee; her eyes could possibly be closed forever. She'd be alive but unresponsive to the outside world that existed around her. It was almost unbelievable, just the day before he and Amy had been sitting there talking and joking with Renee. She'd been fine. Now, all of a sudden, everything had turned upside down. John had to struggle to find his voice, not looking away from Renee's face.

"What caused this?" he demanded softly.

"She hit her head, John," Dr. Halsey responded, "And the opening of her wounds, it was too much. We tried to keep her awake, but she slipped into the coma almost instantly. There was nothing we could do, nothing we can do now, except keep her in good hands and pray that she wakes up."

"I heard, that some coma patients can hear you," John said, having to swallow a lump in his throat, "Do you think Renee can hear me?"

"I don't know," Dr. Halsey answered, "Even if she can, she can't respond."

John didn't care. He turned back to Renee, squeezing her hand ever so slightly.

"Renee, if you can hear me, I love you. I might not be able to see you again for a long time, and I know that, but Amy's coming with you. They're taking you home, on the next ship to Earth. Amy will keep you company. You know if I could, I'd come with you in a second, but both of us know the truth; I'm bound to my duty as a Spartan. Although I won't be with you, or probably be there when you wake up, I'll be here in your heart. I'll always love you, I'll never forget you."

"Doctor Halsey," John looked back over his shoulder to see a timid looking nurse addressing the doctor. She stood in the doorway of the recovery room, "There's a ship available, heading to Earth. If you want to, we can transport the patient now."

Dr. Halsey gave a subtle nod, "Yes, I think that will be best." She met Amy's eyes, "Go get your things." Amy didn't object, and ran from the room. Letting out a weary sigh, she met John's eyes.

"I'm so sorry this has to happen, John," she repeated for the second time, "I really am."

"It's no one's fault," John answered sternly, "We couldn't have prevented what happened."

Dr. Halsey knew this side of John. It was the one most people commonly saw, the stern one, the one with the face that portrayed nothing. Besides looking weary, his face really did portray nothing. His eyes were emotionless, his face followed suit, mouth in a taught line, face muscles far from relaxed, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

"I suppose so," she nodded quietly.

John got up from the bed, but turned and bent down. He hesitated a few moments, letting his face linger close to Renee's for a couple of seconds, and then he leaned in and kissed her softly. He pulled back just in time to see her heart monitor spike, her heart beat quicken, and then flutter down to its normal pace. He bit his lip. Renee _felt _that.

"I love you," he whispered, confident that she could hear him, "I love you."

He stared at her beautiful face, saving a mental image in his mind. He knew very well that it could be the last time he would ever see her. The feeling of threatening tears overwhelmed his eyes, and John held it back, blinking them away. He straightened, and turned to face Dr. Halsey and the other doctors that were standing silently around him. He wiped away all traces of emotion from his face; he even frowned to look menacing.

As he headed towards the door, he said lowly,

"I'm going to get my armor. Get Thomsen to contact the Spartans, I'm rendezvousing with them."

He was gone from the room.

Dr. Halsey let out a deep sigh and looked to Renee lying silently in the bed, and then around to her fellow doctors. One of them, Dr. Eisner, cleared his throat and asked solemnly:

"Where will he go now?"

"Back to war," Dr. Halsey answered numbly.


	41. The Changing Year: 2552

**Chapter Forty**

**Seventeen Years Later**

_July 18, 2552 – I think. Time Unknown, estimated 2100 hrs._

_I managed to get a piece of paper, though it has been forever since I wrote something down. __Even though I._

_After a mere day, we have won the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV. After the slaughter of four hundred marines, Kelly, Linda, James, Fred, Joshua and I were finally called in. It took a lot of work, but finally we destroyed the Covenant, by planting a nuke beneath the city of Cote d'Azur. Not long ago do I remember that it was the other way around, that we were destroyed ourselves in a mere matter of days, an entire colony glassed._

_The more I think about it, I realize I am writing this down because I have no one to tell it to, no one to listen. I have grown so enveloped in fighting, killing Covenant, to keep my mind off everything else. Though with the rest of my Spartans, for them, there is nothing else. Their thoughts are dwelled only on winning battles, as mine should be. Mine has been, and I am glad for it. Or at least I think I am. _

_I forget what glad even feels like. I forget how to laugh. I even forget how to smile. I don't remember the last time I took a moment to swipe my finger across my visor to Spartan smile to one of my team. It seems so long ago, 2535. I was twenty-something then, young, and foolish – as Kelly once said. But do the years even matter? I have long since forgotten my birth date – 2511 is all I know. The rest doesn't matter. _

_2535. I try my best to remember what went on during that time, but so much time has passed since then it has faded into a foggy reminisce that seems more like a dream than real life._

_I just want to say that I –_

_I should say that time doesn't matter either. But it does. I haven't forgotten her, though there are days I admit nothing of her crosses my mind. Not even her face, which I vaguely remember. I haven't heard anything since that day they sent her to Earth. I don't know if she's alive or dead. Awake or still in the coma. _

_And truthfully I still -_

_It's all guns for me now. Guns, tactics, shooting, planting nukes, saving my ass or someone else's. They know me now, I am told I am on the news; they are always wanting to know about me – the Master Chief and his Spartans. How they find fighting magnificent disgusts me. They aren't up here. They aren't fighting. They don't see the countless good soldiers that are slaughtered every single miserable day by the Covenant._

_I should feel joy that we saved Sigma Octanus IV. _

_I should._

_But I feel nothing. _

_I've grown to be numb to what's going on around me. I give orders, aim my weapon and pull the trigger, activate the detonator, return fire, maybe slice open an alien throat. My MJOLNIR armor is part of me now. Without it, I feel naked. Exposed. I find myself detesting uniforms, clothing. I question others who don't mind it at all. I wonder how they can feel safe._

_Even now, as I sit here, with my helmet removed from my head, I am barely able to focus. The possibility of danger is prominent to me, even if I am on a ship in the middle of a Slipspace jump. I want to put it on and leave it on. I would, but my visor is dirty. I should clean it. Though there is little water aboard this vessel, I doubt they will let me waste it on my visor. They don't care about us, we Spartans. It's become more and more apparent as time – dreaded time – passes. The ODSTs always have something to say – never good. Even Dr. Halsey has grown negative, and old. She looks weary, tired all the time. Her black hair is now grey._

_My fellow Spartans aren't much better than I or the Doctor. I know they have grown just as numb as I. We have wounds inflicted upon us, but don't feel them. Don't care that we're bleeding. I suspect Fred has a torn Achilles tendon – he is walking strangely. Kelly dislocated her shoulder, Linda and James (Linda, sprained wrist, James, smashed ribs) helped her put it back into place earlier. She didn't even move, flinch, yell. Nothing. I think something is wrong with Joshua's liver. He looks almost yellow._

_I suspect, however, I am the worst of my platoon._

_I'm numb all over, pushed the pain aside as soon as I felt it threatening to build. Inside my armor I can feel the stickiness of blood, and in some places, the crustiness where it has dried to me, and in others, the tingling from a broken bone. _

_I don't wish to look in a mirror. I see my hands now, and they are enough. They match the paper – ghostly white. Calloused, dirty on the palms, ugly. I can feel my hair, greasy, stuck to my head with the sweat. I haven't gotten it cut in a long time. It might even be beyond military length. I feel it covering my forehead, tickling the back of my neck. In my mouth I taste copper – blood. At some point, I lost a tooth and must have swallowed it. There's a gap, far at the back upper left – a molar definitely. That's where the blood's coming from. It hasn't stopped bleeding, I keep swallowing the blood. It makes me feel nauseous, but like the pain, I shove that feeling aside too._

_I know without having to ask someone or gaze into a mirror that I'm hideous, unkempt. I haven't showered in over a week, I can smell myself – I reek._

_Could Renee love me now?_

_Renee isn't awake from her coma. I just remembered – it was long ago, sometime between now and then, in the 2540's. Amy had contacted me then. No response from Renee, in all those years. Nothing._

_No, I cannot allow myself to go there. When I think of it, it's far off. I find it hard to believe that once, I felt emotion so strong, allowed myself to love. What is it? I've forgotten the feeling, my heart no longer pounds if I think of her. I can't remember what it was like to –_

_No._

_I can't remember. _

_Sometimes it worries me, shouldn't I be able to remember such a thing? _

_I hardly speak now. I go so long without doing so that sometimes my voice croaks. My voice is even an annoyance to me now. I don't like hearing it, and after all, I have nothing to talk about to anyone else. Quiet is what I've become. I rarely speak to anyone other than my Spartans. If I do, it rarely exceeds a sentence. Or two, if they're lucky._

_It's hard to believe that once, I carried on conversations with Renee, Amy, Troy, like a normal civilized person would do, conversations that would last for hours on end, I would laugh, I would smile, and even hold Renee's hand sneakily beneath the cafeteria table _

_This, me writing this down on paper, is out of character. It's not me. (Who am I?) I can't help but feel like I'm doing something wrong, something sneaky, but it's not like I can actually tell someone this. The only person I could confide in (Dr. Halsey) is on Reach. I haven't seen her in a while, and I wouldn't want to burden her with my ridiculous confusions. It's not like she can do anything for me, anyhow. So I write my thoughts on this tattered piece of paper._

_I had to get it down somehow. But what's the point?_

_Even now, I could probably go on forever, but this is the end of the page. The end of my words. They don't even amount to anything. I will throw this out. _

John clenched his jaw, dropping the pen and, with his hand, grasped the paper he had just filled with his words, he closed his fingers around it and it made a satisfying crackling noise as it crumpled beneath the pressure. He applied two hands, compressing the paper into a tiny little ball that looked extra small when allowed to rest in the palm of his large hand. He leaned down, and with a toss, threw the paper ball beneath the plain, too-small bed. On a second thought, he took the pen and threw under there as well.

He had no idea why he had just done what he did. It had been years since he had written on paper, hardly anyone wrote on paper anymore. It was data pads, laptops, holographic screens. For some reason however, John had been tempted when he had found the piece of paper and pen abandoned on a table in the cafeteria, to write down his feelings.

Absentmindedly, John ran his fingers through his messy hair – it _was_ long. His face, that he so neglected to look at, was pale, scarred. His eyes were sunken into his head, they didn't look brown, but they looked black. Cold, black and emotionless, unforgiving eyes – that had once been filled with love and happiness. He had gazed into Renee's eyes so many times, kissed her so many times – but like he had written in the note, it was all hazy now. Jumbled, blurry, out of focus. A secret part of him longed to remember what it felt like to love. That explained the so many crossed out sentences. He knew it himself, but couldn't even allow it to seep out onto paper. He should've scribbled them out better, he decided.

John was exhausted by the fighting – the past seventeen years of it. As soon as Renee had been discharged to Earth along with Amy, he had immersed himself in fighting. He purposely went looking for Covenant; he didn't wait for them to come to him. He had found himself killing them in more violent ways. He didn't hesitate to behead them, sever their limbs, and slit their throats. There had been a period where he, like Fred, favored the combat knife as his number one weapon. John killed and killed but it hadn't made him feel better. It just kept his mind off Renee. In the first few days they'd been separated, John felt sadness, but he never cried again – he permanently banned himself from doing so. Eventually, he didn't allow himself to feel sadness, or happiness, until every emotion thinkable was ignored and not shown. He felt nothing – he just killed, gave orders, did his job.

What he should have done from the beginning, a voice in his head sometimes nagged. At the most weary of times, John found himself cursing 2535, cursing his meeting Renee, allowing himself to fall head over heels for her as if he was only a love-struck civilian. He regretted having such thoughts, though. Always.

He felt a little bit lighter getting the thoughts off his chest, however, he was still burdened with feeling – or lack thereof –, absolutely nothing. Maybe this was how he was meant to feel from the beginning, it was probably the right thing. Having fallen in love seventeen years ago might've poisoned him in a way, as to make him feel that this wasn't the normality.

However, John wasn't about to sit around and ponder. He let out a single sigh, and put on his gloves, and then finally, his helmet. The sound of his suit pressurizing was a calming sound. He could relax now – truly relax in a few moments. He got up, and didn't give his small, bland room a second glance, and left it behind. He walked down the ship's passageways – this was a smaller ship, not near close to a Halcyon Class cruiser. As he walked, he passed a couple of marines and some crewmen – and was well aware of how they gave him a wide berth – sidestepping to the other side of the hallway completely, glancing nervously at him out of the corner of their eyes. John was used to this now, too used to it. Once again, he suffered a brief flashback of spending time with Renee, how they had once walked down the hallways of the _Hercules_ together, hand in hand…

He couldn't allow himself those thoughts. They hurt too much. He could block out the pain of the gashes and broken bones, but for some reason remembering those few months seventeen years ago caused him more pain than any bodily wound.

John strolled into the cryo-bay, and no one questioned his intentions. He passed several cryotubes, and in them, were his Spartans. They shared the same thoughts. John got himself an empty cryotube, and the crewmen didn't hesitate to ready it for him. Without a word to anyone, John climbed into the cryotube, calmly watching as the hatch closed. He barely had time to think before the cold enveloped him – he closed his eyes. That was it.

**[Los Angeles, California – USA – Earth]**

Amy walked down the hallway of the hospital, the strong scent of disinfectant running through her nose. She was wearing civilian clothes, a green tank top, jeans riddled with holes, and a pair of sandals. Her red hair was pulled back into a fuzzy ponytail and on top of her head she had balanced a pair of dramatically large sunglasses. Along with her, walked a boy of ten, with light brown hair and his mother's green eyes. He also had inherited his mother's height – he was tall for his age, almost reaching Amy's shoulder. Tall, lanky, however with a freckled, somewhat pudgy face, he was an even mixture of the two parents. Amy, after coming home from the war had finally married Wayne Brown in 2538, when he finally received his doctor's degree. Not four years later, they had their son. Despite her husband's desire for a different name, Amy named him Troy.

As she walked down the hallway, Troy pulled on her hand.

"Are we going to see Dad?" the little boy questioned.

"On our way out, maybe," Amy replied, "Just calm down. There's someone else I want to see first."

"Your friend?" the boredom was heard in Troy's voice, "You see her almost _every_ day. And she doesn't do anything. She's always sleeping."

"She's my best friend, Troy," Amy let out a little sigh, "And she's in a coma. Just because she can't talk to me doesn't mean I'm just going to ignore her."

"She's been in a coma forever!" Troy exclaimed, "You know I heard my teacher say today that some coma patients don't wake up and the best thing to do sometimes is to just let them die."

"Troy!" Amy scolded, although she felt the tears stinging her eyes. The boy was just young; he didn't know what he was saying. He _was _right though, "That's a horrible thing to say. I don't want to hear you say anything like that again."

Troy pouted, sticking out his lower lip.

"Sorry, Mom."

Amy sighed again, and reached out and put her arm around Troy's shoulders, but he quickly ducked out of it, letting out a groan, "Moooom!" It turned into a whisper, "We're in _public_!"

Amy let out a little laugh, but didn't attempt to do it again. He was a typical boy – in public he'd stay away from her, but at home, loved nothing more than to snuggle up to her and be babied. She looked up and saw they were approaching Renee's room – the number she had been given was haunting – 117. It made Amy shudder every time.

She walked into the room, Troy followed timidly. Over on the bed by the window – with the sun streaming in across it, was Renee. Dressed in the bland, polka-dotted hospital gown, hooked up to a respirator and an intravenous tube, eyes closed and laying deathly still – Amy wished that Renee was only sleeping. Renee, despite seventeen years older, looked generally the same, except that her short, military hair had grown out. It was long now, past her shoulders in gentle waves – from what Amy remembered, Renee's hair had never been wavy, but then again, Renee never had it this long before in her life.

Amy gingerly sat down on the chair that was beside her friend's bed, and pulled Troy onto her lap.

"I'm back again," Amy spoke loudly and clearly, reaching forward with one hand to touch Renee's arm, "I apologize for not coming yesterday, I had a job interview and Troy's soccer schedule didn't quite give me any spare time."

She paused, watching Renee's features – she was stupid to expect a response, and in a way she could understand Troy's feelings towards her, how he saw this as strange. Renee never responded. Occasionally, her eyelids would flutter, perhaps a finger would twitch, but Amy had learned to accept that these little motions had nothing to do with the possibility of Renee awaking. When she first had seen this, she had almost been brought to tears and ran to get the nearest nurse, only to have her hopes squashed when she was told this was common in coma patients.

Renee didn't flinch, her eyelids didn't even move today. She was still.

"I tried to contact John," Amy told her, "I've been trying, but I've heard nothing back. Occasionally we hear something about the Spartans in general, but nothing specifically about him."

"Can I turn on the TV?" Troy was restless, and he slid off his mother's lap and walked towards the TV that sat on the table not far away.

"Yes, put it on the news channel, if you don't mind," Amy said, and then she glanced back to Renee's unresponsive face, "There might be something about John, who knows."

Troy turned on the TV, and quickly found the news channel. He sat down right on the floor to begin watching with eager interest. Two excited looking reporters were talking about the war, and Amy listened with curiosity.

"_It's just in, that the UNSC have won the battle for Sigma Octanus IV, in just a day,_" the male reporter, one Mitch Hamilton, was saying, "_This is quite unbelievable. Of course, this battle was not without the fair share of casualties – but it is said the battle could not have been won without the aid of a platoon of Spartans, rumored to be led by the Master Chief himself – a very established hero as of recent months, what do you say Anne?" _

The reporter named Anne Lennox smiled at the camera and nodded.

"_Indeed it's true, this Master Chief – we know nothing else to call him by, seems to have been in a fair share of battles in recent times, and reports of him can even be traced back years. I think it would be safe to say that he is a veteran in the Human-Covenant war._"

"Hey, Mom," Troy turned around, "Is that the same guy you knew? John?"

"It is," Amy nodded.

"How come they don't know his name?" Troy made a weird face.

"They're just reporters," Amy replied, "Renee and I were one of the few to know his real name."

"Renee loved him, right?" Troy let out a giggle.

"Yes, and she still loves him, and he her," Amy told him plainly.

"How could she love a robot?" Troy raised an eyebrow, "I've seen pictures of Spartans, they're just giant robots."

"There are men and women inside that armor," Amy explained, "They may look like robots, but they are human, just like us."

"What did John look like then?" Troy was testing her, not quite believing her claims.

"He was tall," Amy began, "Really tall, probably the tallest person you would ever see – and he was huge, too, muscular. He had brown hair, and dark brown eyes, they looked black sometimes. He was really pale, almost white – because he spent so much time in his armor. Generally, he was a very handsome man."

"Oh," Troy nodded, "Ok. Could he eat?"

"What?" Amy made a face at this odd question.

"Cause Peter at school said that Spartans don't eat – they're human in a way but they don't eat or go to the bathroom – that's why they can fight all the time. They don't have to worry about starving or going to pee."

Amy had to let out a little laugh at this.

"Hear that Renee?" she asked, and then looked to Troy, "Peter at school is wrong. I've seen John eat."

"But not go to the bathroom," Troy was determined, "He could just pretend to eat… it could disappear or something."

Amy laughed again.

"When I tell you he's human, my dear boy, you best believe it," she shook her head, "I would know, and Renee would know even better than me."

"How?" Troy was witty.

"Oh, I'm not going there," Amy suppressed a giggle, "Too much of a sin for your innocent ears to hear, right Renee?" She reached over and took her friend's hand in her own.

"Ewww," Troy cried theatrically, "Mom!"

"You asked," Amy replied plainly.

Troy got up and turned the TV off, and looked back to her, walking across the room to stand by Renee's bed. He looked at Renee for a long while, not saying anything – just staring at her.

"She's a pretty lady," he remarked after a long beat, "Even if she is old like you."

"Thirty-seven is not old, Troy," Amy sniffed, reaching out to grab him about the waist, pulling him close to her. He let out a squeal, "Thirty-seven is young in these times. Eighty is old. Ninety is old. A hundred is old, not thirty-seven. We've got a while to go yet before I even begin to admit I am getting old and decrepit. Do you see any grey hairs?"

Troy turned around on a dime to inspect his mother's fiery red hair.

"No," he shook his head.

"How about Renee, see any?"

"No," he answered once again, "Okay, you're not old."

Amy pecked him on the cheek, letting out a hearty laugh.

"Thank you."

"Can I go see Dad now?" Troy jumped up and down in excitement.

"Yes, you run along, I'll be with you in a moment," Amy told him, and watched as he ran off, out the door, leaving her alone with Renee. She sighed and turned around to look at her friend's face again. She'd been a coma for seventeen years – it seemed so long, that at times Amy found it difficult to imagine Renee moving and seeing and talking again – awake and responsive to the world around her, but that was not so. She was – beyond her control, cut off from the normality of human life – she was literally sleeping her life away. A deep sleep that, Amy knew was possible she'd never wake up from.

All around her the world was moving, changing, the Human-Covenant war still raging on after all this time. It had almost been 30 years since the war started, and Amy knew that John had been fighting since it had begun. She had only been able to contact John once, in 2543, to inform him that Renee had not yet woken up. Since then, almost ten years had passed and still nothing. He received it, she knew that much, but he didn't respond in any form. Amy had sent more messages, some of them straying from the topic of Renee, onto his own well-being and praying that he would continue to have good luck. The most recent message Amy had sent just over a month ago, but knew even as she paid for the message's travel, that it would probably go unread or even undelivered.

Men and women of the UNSC only seemed to have more restricted rules as each year of war passed. Their ability to communicate with their families and friends back home was eventually forbidden – and Amy could only guess that John, being a Spartan, would have the same rules apply – and besides, the Spartans didn't have families, they didn't have friends. There would be no one for them to communicate with.

Sometimes Amy wondered if John still remembered her, remembered Renee. He had been fighting nonstop ever since she and Renee had been discharged to Earth. No one could fight for that long and not feel the effects of it. She wondered if John had changed at all – well his looks obviously, since he was no longer a young, twenty-four year old man she had known. He – Amy did quick calculations – depending on his birthday, would be either forty or forty one years of age. He had to have changed during that time, but whether if it was for the good or for the bad, Amy could not be sure.

She only hoped for Renee's sake that, if she ever woke up, if the war ever ended and if John came to her alive, that he wouldn't be a nerve-wracked, demented and mentally scarred outcast. He had been for the most part anti-social when she and Renee had first met him – but they had swayed him to embrace his civilian, common side. It had been years since then, and Amy had a strange feeling that John would have only once again become introverted and deliberately anti-social.

Sometimes, Amy wondered what would've happened if she had stayed in the UNSC, would she have been able to keep John functioning normally? She doubted it, he would have no reason to stick around, he would've gone back to his Spartans regardless. If she had stayed in, who knows, would she be alive now? There was a chance that she could've been killed. The life of a marine was far past her now, and Amy had no desire to ever return. Her leaving might have been viewed by some as cowardly, but she left simply for Renee, whom she still was supporting all the way. As well, she had Wayne and Troy.

In a way, this made Amy think – perhaps it was best that Renee was in the coma. It would have been excruciating for her to be awake all this time, unable to contact John, the only memorabilia of the war being the scars on her body and a tattered, bloody photo given to her by her best friend moments before his death. It would have been indeed, a difficult time.

Amy glanced to the bed side table, where, in a simple frame, was the same photo. John, Renee, Amy and Troy Fisher. All of them were smiling – a moment captured in time where they all had been alive, all had been generally happy, thankful for each other's friendship and company. Amy studied John's face for a long while – then Renee's, then Troy's. She hadn't looked at the picture in a long while – although it never failed to do what it usually did when she took time to gaze at it – bring tears to her eyes. Amy didn't want to let them fall down her cheeks, but when she attempted to blink them away, they escaped and dropped onto her lap. She sniffled, rubbing her nose and forcing herself to laugh lightly.

"I must leave you," Amy said to Renee, "I have to meet up with Troy, visit Wayne and then I figured I would get Troy and myself some ice cream. It's really hot here now, as it is every summer. Brentwood has become busier over the years; a lot of celebrities are around. It's funny to watch them, you know – a whole war is going on and they act like nothing's ever happened. But anyway, your parents might be around to see you today, I was talking to your mom last night – she and your Dad miss you and love you a lot."

"Are you coming, mom?" Troy's voice could be heard impatiently from outside the door.

Amy let out a little sigh, and let go of Renee's hand. Getting to her feet, Amy pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes to disguise the fact that she had been crying.

"Yes, I am," Amy replied, her voice fainter than she would have liked it to be. She muttered a goodbye to Renee, and then turned and walked out of the room. She saw Troy was leaning against the wall, absentmindedly playing with a rubber glove he had pulled from a box of them that were on the opposite side of the hallway. He stopped, and looked up to his mother's face. He knew what it meant when she was wearing her sunglasses indoors. She did this every time she was leaving the hospital.

"Are you ready to go?" Amy put on her fake, happy voice.

Troy nodded, and the two of them started walking down the hallway side by side, and Troy, without a moment's hesitation, reached around to put his arm about Amy's waist.

"Don't cry, Mom," was all he said.


	42. Awakening

** Chapter Forty One**

** [October 18****th****, 2552 - Los Angeles, California – USA – Earth]**

Renee opened her eyes.

The sudden light almost blinded her, and almost instantly she let out a gasp, jolting into full consciousness. Her eyes, despite the light, looked around wildly, taking in the unfamiliar room. She felt tired, weak, and strangely hungry, like she had been sleeping for a long time. For a moment, she just lay on the bed, not moving, scanning the room.

White walls, pale blue tiled flooring, a couple of framed paintings, a blind pulled down over the window, a single chair, a table. It was empty, quiet, although through the closed door, she could hear people walking in the hallways and the faint murmur of their voices. A clean scent drifted into her nose, disinfectant, and another pleasant smell – flowers. There were flowers on the bedside table – she easily made the connection. Quite a deluxe arrangement of flowers, colors of pinks, yellows, oranges and whites. Someone was caring for her.

Renee tried her best to look down at herself, but felt weak and brittle. She could barely lift her head from the pillow. What first threw her off were the long brown locks of hair that she could see sprawling down past her shoulders. Her hair was _long_? Since when? That was the first thing that got her wondering.

She saw her body lying out before her, her torso, legs, and feet, all motionless beneath the starched white sheets. She was dressed in a white and blue polka-dotted hospital gown, and had IV in her arms and could feel a breathing tube stuck in her nose. Renee found herself to be suddenly overwhelmed – she was alone, she had no idea where she was or what was even wrong with her. Why was she here?

Momentarily, a series of memories of voices, no images, flashed through her brain - just voices; no faces to connect them to. She remembered a strong, handsome voice whispering soft words in her ear, and a familiar female voice talking encouragingly to her, and strangely, a young child's voice – a boy, a voice in which she didn't know. How odd. Had she dreamt such things?

Renee spotted something on the bedside table that caught her attention. Beside the vase of beautiful flowers, there was a framed picture, turned slightly away from her. What was it? She went to raise her arm to reach out for it, but was surprised when the movement was delayed. A bony, pale arm rose slowly from the sheets, and stretched out towards the picture frame with spindly, almost sickly looking fingers. It took Renee a moment to realize that the arm was her own. Why did she look like this?

Her arm suddenly began to tremble uncontrollably, first her fingers, then her whole arm. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. With a frustrated whimper, Renee managed to grab a hold of the picture frame – squeezing with difficulty. She managed to lift it, but it was surprisingly heavy. Her arm trembled feebly, and in fear of dropping it, she quickly drew her arm back – and just in time. The picture fell from her fingers, landing onto her lap. Raising her head slightly from the pillow, she willed herself to pick up the frame again, this time with both hands. It took the same effort to get the other arm to move. She studied the picture, focusing – and at once she saw the faces – everything flooded back to her in an overwhelming wave.

John, Amy, Troy, herself – the picture was wrinkled, and in places, smeared with blood. The blood however, was browned and long since dried. Troy's blood. The images flashed back to her with astonishing force. Each one hit her like a ton of bricks.

An image of Troy, his face torn with pain as he is struck in the back with plasma. Him collapsing to the pavement, blood everywhere. A weak smile crossing his face, his weak efforts as he removed the photo from his breast pocket to cram it into her hand. The life leaving his eyes as they stare past her, John grappling with that Elite, and finally, a bewildering pain and sounds of shots echoing through her ears as her body is jerked backwards, penetrated by dozens of bullets.

Renee threw her head back onto the pillow and let out a muffled scream of terror. Abandoning the picture on her lap, she grasped at the sheets, pulling them up to her face. Biting the blankets to further muffle her screams – that sounded weak and scratchy, she closed her eyes and felt the horror running through her, sweat breaking out all over her body. All of a sudden she felt lost, unsure, disoriented. It was like a bad dream. Her hair was long, she was in an unfamiliar room, and someone had put the bloody picture into a frame and left flowers for her. Time – how much time? Her hair never grew fast, it never had, and all of a sudden it was almost long enough to rival Rapunzel for Christ's sake.

She let her body convulse with silent sobs for several minutes. The voices and footsteps still heard from outside the closed door – sometimes a blurred image of a person could be seen passing.

"Where am I?" Renee spoke aloud for the first time, clutching the blankets still close to her face, "What's happened…?" her voice was small, weak. Taking a deep breath, she threw the blankets aside – the effort that took was enormous – and she screamed, "Is there anyone here!"

The voices outside the door stopped, and then they picked up again, this time in a rushed tone. Renee momentarily thought she heard her name. The door to the room was thrown open and in came a doctor, two nurses, and a very familiar red haired girl.

"She's awake!" Amy was the first to speak; she pushed past the doctor and the nurses to run to Renee's bedside, tears running freely down her face. Renee was snatched up into Amy's hug, still mortified. She managed to weakly wrap her arms around her friend.

"Oh my god," Amy said breathlessly, her voice choked, "You're finally awake. After all this time. I thought you would never wake up."

Her words only confused Renee, and she was surprised when Renee pushed her away gently. Her brown eyes were lively – but portrayed confusion and disorientation. Amy noticed that she was shaking – her hands especially. Her bony fingers clutched at the bed sheets.

"Amy!" Renee cried unsurely, "Amy, tell me. You have to tell me. What year is it? Where the hell am I?"

Amy stared at Renee's pale, sunken-in face, then back to Wayne, and the two nurses that stood behind him. He gave her a little nod, a go ahead.

"Renee," Amy whipped back around to face her friend, "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but seventeen years have passed," The words were barely out of her mouth and Amy watched as Renee's facial expression instantly altered. Her mouth fell open, shock taking command of her features. She looked down to her trembling hands that were now fingering with the picture, then back up to Amy. Her mouth struggled to find words.

"Seventeen… years?" she echoed numbly.

"Yes," Amy lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed, and reached out to grab one of Renee's hands. It was cold, and even when she held it, it still shook. She hadn't really noticed until then how bony her hands were, it was like holding the hand of a skeleton, "It's October 18th, 2552. You're on Earth, in Brentwood. We're home, Renee, back in Brentwood. Remember Brentwood?" Amy was unsure, suddenly plagued with what Dr. Halsey had said years ago, that Renee might suffer from memory loss. She had remembered well enough who she was, but, did she remember everything else?

"Brentwood," Renee nodded, "I remember. You're not lying to me? It's really… 2552?"

"Yes," Amy assured her, and turned back to look at Wayne and the nurses, "You guys can leave, We've got a lot of catching up to do. I'll let you know if something goes wrong."

Wayne nodded wordlessly, and he and the nurses turned and left, closing the door quietly behind them. Amy turned back to face Renee, letting out a sigh.

"You've got a lot to learn," Amy told her, watching as Renee relaxed, allowing herself to lie back fully against the pillows. She turned her head away for a moment, looking across the room. She swallowed, and then glanced back to Amy.

"I suppose I do," her voice was quiet.

"How much do you remember, of the past?" Amy asked, holding her breath, "You fell into a coma in 2535, and have been relatively unresponsive ever since."

Renee closed her eyes, and then opened them. She held up the picture, flashing it at Amy. Her expression was pained, and Amy could see the tears glittering in her eyes.

"Everything. I remember everything… I remember being shot, I can see Troy dying in my mind as clearly as the day it happened," her voice choked, but she didn't allow herself to cry, "I can remember John, I remember kissing him, I remember loving him." She sighed deeply, "Tell me, Amy, where _is _John?"

"Doing his duty," Amy replied simply.

"The war is still…?" Renee didn't even bother finishing her sentence. Amy nodded silently.

"John's still alive, still fighting. He's one tough son of a bitch," she explained, "The Human-Covenant war has just gotten really complex over the past few months. Reach was glassed not two months ago; the Spartans were killed. Rumor has it that John is the last one, and all by his lonesome and some help of the marines, he has recently defeated and destroyed a Forerunner construct, Installation 04, most commonly known as Halo."

Renee struggled to maintain her composure, her face crumpled, her lip quivering.

"All the other Spartans?" she breathed, "That must have killed John… he…"

"Some say there are some still alive, but others report all the Spartans were murdered in the glassing of Reach," Amy told her, "I haven't talked to John since 2535. I can't help but believe he must have changed a hell of a lot since then. I hate to tell you, but you picked the wrong time to wake up."

"Why?" Renee asked, raising her head a little from the pillow.

"The Covenant are closing in on Earth," Amy said lowly in monotone, "It's all over the news… it may look controlled here in the hospital, but outside of here, there's panic. If the Covenant attack, we have nowhere to go. It's not like all the other colonies where there was hope of evacuation – they could be evacuated to another planet – but us, there are no other planets."

"Turn on the TV," Renee commanded, her voice sounding sick with worry. She gestured to the television that sat across the room on a stand.

"Are you sure?"

"Just do it," Renee ordered, meeting Amy's eyes challengingly.

Amy sighed, but obliged. She went up and turned on the TV, and slowly backed up to retake her seat, eyes glued to the set.

"…_such emergency measures are being taken; we even have a rebellion group demanding to seek refuge on the moon. We are receiving updates from our Space Stations, the Athens and the Cairo, which are constantly monitoring the Covenant's approach towards Earth. From what could be seen, it is a relatively small fleet of Covenant cruisers, nothing compared to the size of the fleet that attacked and destroyed the military colony of Reach just over a month ago. Our space stations are armed with MAC guns and will try to intercept the Covenant before they get a chance to enter into our atmosphere, however we cannot depend entirely on this strategy. Military bases all over the world are prepared for war, and ultimately what might be humanity's final stand," the_ news reporter named Anne was saying. Her expression was grim, and she looked even possibly frightened.

"My god," Renee breathed, "The world's gone to hell."

"If we aren't there yet, we will be soon, if those bastards get in our atmosphere," Amy said, "This is morbid, Renee. I know you haven't seen it but it's all Wayne, Troy and I have been watching…" she got up to shut the TV off, but Renee instantly objected.

"Leave it on," she demanded, but when she met Amy's eyes, "Wayne and Troy?"

"I'm married to Wayne Brown," Amy held up her left hand to show off her wedding band, smirking slightly, "And I have a son named Troy. He's ten."

"You finally married Wayne?" Renee exclaimed, for the first time smiling, "And… your son. I like his name."

"So do I," Amy sat back down, "I had to name him that. It only seemed right."

"Where is he now?" Renee asked, glancing away from the TV, which was showing some footage from around the world of the chaos.

"School," Amy replied, "I will be sure to bring him here to meet you. He'll be relieved that you finally woke up. At his age he couldn't quite comprehend why I came to visit an unresponsive coma patient every day."

"I still can't believe it has been seventeen years," Renee sighed, "I'm thirty something. I don't even want to look in the mirror… I'm afraid of what I'll see."

"You still look the same," Amy assured her, "Besides the long hair. You're still pretty. That hasn't changed a bit. I still look the same don't I?"

"Yeah," Renee nodded, "Although you're more mature looking."

"Hey, I'm just not twenty anymore, and you're not nineteen."

Renee and Amy's attentions were drawn back to the television suddenly, when a familiar name flew through both of their ears:

"…_We've just got some new footage, live from the Cairo Station, where Commander Miranda Keyes, Lord Terrance Hood, Sergeant Avery Johnson, and the Master Chief Spartan 117 currently reside, participating in a brief honoring ceremony in memory of the late Captain Jacob Keyes. His daughter Miranda will be there to accept her father's award. The elder Keyes was killed in action during the battle on Halo, where he participated heroically until his end."_

The news cut to footage aboard the Cairo, and Renee shot up from her bed, into a full sitting position. She grabbed Amy's arm. Beside a black man dressed in dress uniform, was a tall soldier donned in familiar green armor, with an orange mirrored visor.

"It's John!" Renee exclaimed.

"What do you know, he's got new armor," Amy remarked, "He still looks handsome."

They watched intently as the two walked past a crowd of applauding marines, and for a brief second, John looked up, directly into the eye of the camera. Although Renee couldn't see his face, her heart still leaped. John looked away uninterestedly, and leaned down to the black man, and surprisingly, he spoke.

"You told me there wouldn't be any cameras." The voice was deep, emotionless, and monotone.

"You told _me _you were gonna wear somethin' nice!" the black man retorted as they walked past, and Renee guessed that he might be the Sergeant Johnson the news reporters had mentioned. Beside her, Amy let out a little scoff.

"That's right John!" she nagged at the TV, "We wanna see your face, dammit."

The video cut back to the news reporters, and Renee let out a deep breath – it was shaky. She had seen John, after all this time, donning new shiny MJOLNIR armor. He had looked the same on the outside, but sure hadn't sounded it. His voice had gotten deeper – and seemed even colder than she remembered. She knew he wouldn't speak with much expression around other military officers, but she hadn't surprised John to sound so… harsh.

"Do you think he sounded different?" she asked Amy.

"Well, what did you expect?" Amy asked, "He's changed, and hearing him just now further supported my theory. Just think of all he's been through. It's not like he'd turn and wave to the camera or something. He's probably royally pissed at life – and I wouldn't blame him."

"Oh Amy," Renee sighed, lying back again against the pillows, "Do you think he even remembers me? Do you think he remembers my face? When this war is over, will he come home to me?"

"I don't think he could forget you," Amy answered, although she didn't want to say it actually could be possible. John could easily be brainwashed – after years and years of fighting, his few months of having a romantic relationship as a young man could be foggy.

"Is there any way to contact him?" she sounded desperate, "There has to be a way."

"No," Amy shook her head, "I've tried. Communications with UNSC personnel are strictly prohibited. They seem to think not letting the marines talk to their families is the best thing to do, apparently. I'm glad I left."

"When did you leave?"

"When you did," Amy shrugged, "They sent home within the day you fell into a coma, they had low hopes for you. I went with you, it's not like I was going to stay and fight by myself… not after Troy and everyone died."

"But John…" Renee made a face, "John would've still been there! You left him, Amy!"

"Don't accuse me of leaving him!" Amy snapped suddenly, "He left the _Hercules_ before you were even transported onto the ship to Earth. It was his decision; he went back to his Spartans. He kissed you and was gone before I even really knew where he went. John made his own decision to crawl back into that secluded life of his, it's not like he could've come with us."

Renee looked down to the picture in her hands, and studied John's face. She wondered if he still looked the same, or if he had changed. She hated to think about it, but his scar beneath his eye probably wasn't the only one by now. She let out a deep sigh, knowing she had upset Amy for accusing her of abandoning John.

"Look, I'm sorry," Renee said quietly, "I'm just really messed up. I mean, look at me! I'm a skeleton; I have hardly enough muscle to hold up my own damn arm."

"It's a common symptom with coma patients," Amy sighed, non-verbally forgiving her, "Wayne told me that. Since all they do is lie in bed, they can't get any exercise so eventually they lose their muscle strength. Have you tried moving your legs?"

"Yes," Renee answered, attempting at that exact moment. Her feet felt heavy, like they had weights attached to them, "They hardly move." This clearly upset her, "I doubt I'll be able to walk. I'll have to go through therapy, I know that much. I'll have to learn how to walk all over again like some baby! Or should I even bother? The Covenant are going to destroy this place anyhow."

"Don't be negative like that," Amy ordered, "We won't let them destroy Earth. Let's think about your future. You're awake; you've got a life to live. What are you going to do? I still have to give your parents a call."

"My parents?" Renee echoed. She hadn't seen her parents since she left for the Academy, "They know?"

"Of course they do. They come here nearly as often as I. They were heartbroken when they learned of your condition. They'll be so happy to learn you've woken up."

"Do they know about Troy?" Renee asked solemnly. Her parents had always favored Troy since Renee could remember. They treated him like he was their own son, and when Renee and Troy had been dating, they would jokingly refer to him as their son-in-law to be.

"Fisher?" Amy made sure, although she knew what one she was talking about, "Yeah, I had to tell them that."

"And John?"

"That's where I kept my mouth shut," Amy explained, "I wasn't sure if you would want me to say anything about him. I'm sure they know him as Master Chief – I told them minimally that we both met him, but as for your relationship, my mouth was closed. If anyone should tell them, I figured it would be you."

"I don't think I will," Renee sighed, "The whole idea of it… especially if John has done all these things you've said, besides, he's a Spartan. I would have no idea what they would think if I told them we're together."

"Well you wouldn't know until you tried," Amy looked on the bright side, "But I think they will be too happy about you being awake to care about anything else. Perhaps if you inquire? Just say something like 'Mom, Dad, what do you think of Master Chief?' You know, it wouldn't hurt. That way you could get their opinion on how they feel about him and then decide on what you're going to do from there."

Renee simply shook her head.

"I'm not going to say anything about him, Amy. That's my final decision. The day he comes home is the day I'll say anything about John 117. Until then, my mouth is closed."

Amy made a call to Renee's parents and told them the good news, and even as Renee sat in the bed, she could hear her mother's ecstatic voice from the cell phone when Amy was on the other side of the room. They eagerly declared that they were on their way immediately to the hospital, so Amy decided to make Renee feel a little bit better. She offered to brush her hair, and she combed it and unknotted it until it shone. Wayne and a couple of nurses came in and examined Renee, and were assured that she was quite fine, despite disabilities when it came to walking or picking anything up. She was able to be disconnected from the feeding IV, and they brought Renee some light food to try and eat.

She picked at it, struggling somewhat to hold a fork. Since only Amy was there, Renee ended up discarding the eating utensil and using her fingers to rip apart little pieces. They talked, and as the time passed Amy could see that although Renee wasn't still fully acceptant of the fact that seventeen years had passed and that she now was thirty six, Renee was feeling a little bit better. They chatted casually and Amy noticed that whenever she brought up the past, Renee avoided it. She would ignore whatever she said or remark with one word, and ask about the current time; after all she'd slept through so much.

When Renee's parents arrived, they were frantic beyond belief. They couldn't get to her fast enough, or so it seemed. They each hugged her for a long while, Renee's mother cried of course, but her father viewed the event more lightly. He ruffled Renee's long hair and remarked on how good it was to have her back, whilst Renee's mother stood back from the bed, hand put to her mouth, watching Renee with teary eyes. Amy sat quietly in the chair next to Renee as she talked to her parents.

"I tried to not blame myself," Renee's mother announced, "But I couldn't help it. In all these years you've been in the coma, I wished that I never let you join the UNSC. It was a stupid, stupid decision to allow my baby girl to do something such as that when she was so young!"

"But Harriet," objected Renee's father, "The girl was nineteen – and it was what she wanted to do. What happened to her was inevitable."

"No, we've had this discussion before, and my opinion won't change," she snapped, and then ended it, by turning to face Renee, smiling, "Sorry about that, Renee, dear."

"I don't regret joining the UNSC," Renee told her, having listened to her parents' argument with great alertness, "Though I'd never go back, I've experienced things there that are once in a life time."

"I'd imagine; being shot at by ugly aliens!" Harriet sniffed, "Indeed, once in a life time experiences but ones most people would _not _want to be any part of. I watched a documentary on the life of a UNSC marine once, while you were still fighting. It was horrifying."

"You can't really believe what you see on TV," Renee answered calmly, taking a drink of water, "It's a war and they'd blow everything out of proportion. I suppose it had us living in tents and having aliens lurking around every moment, and having people picked off every few minutes like some corny horror movie."

"Something such as that," Harriet nodded, "After seeing that I couldn't sleep for days! Ask your father."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

"We did occasionally camp in tents, but made sure the perimeter was secured," Renee filled her in, "At least half the camp was up in nightly intervals doing secure night watch."

"But now those _things_ are coming to Earth," Harriet pointed out, "It's all over the news! They'd better do something about it, the soldiers, and that one what's his name, Master Chief."

Renee glanced to Amy, who gave her a little smile.

"He's doing brilliant work up there," Jack nodded approvingly, "Didn't you say Amy, that you and Renee got the privilege of meeting him?"

"Yes," Amy smiled politely, "We did."

"Is he as unpleasant as they make him out to be?" Harriet questioned, "I've heard…"

"Mother, you really have to stop listening to everything you hear on television," Renee interrupted, "J – the Master Chief was a heroic soldier. Magnificent at what he did, and very human."

"Good looking too," Amy added with a snicker.

Jack let out a little chuckle, but Harriet was intrigued.

"You saw his face? I thought no one ever has."

"We did," Amy made brief eye contact with Amy, "He's human, brown hair, brown eyes. Pale, but in his own special way, very attractive."

"Wayne wouldn't like hearing that, would he, Amy?" Jack questioned.

"Oh, he doesn't care!" Amy laughed lightly, "I'm being honest though, and he's handsome, right Renee?"

Renee nodded slightly, ever so slyly.

"Oh, I'm so stupid!" Amy exclaimed, and she snatched the picture from the table and held it out to Renee's parents, pointing to John, "That's the face behind that mirrored visor."

Both of her parents took the picture and examined it.

"He almost looks sickly, but, besides that, he _is _a good looking young man," Harriet remarked, "Although not as nice as Troy. The poor boy," Renee watched her mother getting on the verge of choking up as she glanced to Troy in the picture.

"What do you think, Dad?" Renee asked her father, as he still hadn't said anything.

"Not bad," he made a face, and then looked up to her and Amy, "You two girls have strange taste, however. I'll give you that."

Amy and Renee couldn't resist bursting into laughter. For a moment, Renee felt young, felt like it was the old times. However a very important part was missing. John. How Amy described him as being handsome, it had been true in 2535. John was possibly the best looking man she had ever seen – but something in her mind was bothering her. After all these years of stress, battles and non-stop killing, would they have taken their toll on him? Would John still look the same, or would he be unrecognizable? Would he be laced with scars, even more than before? Would he be deathly white now? Would he even remember how to smile?

It feared her, and at the moment, was more worrisome than having to relearn how to walk, rebuilding her muscle control, blending back into normal civilian life or the Covenant that were getting closer with each passing second. John would always be the primary worry on her mind. Compared to her worry for him, everything else seemed frivolous.

[**CAIRO SPACE STATION]**

John ran through the hallways, his eyes glued ahead of him, his finger to his triggers of his SMGs. Relatively new weapons to be used by the UNSC, John relished being able to use them – though at the same time found himself weary of their fire power. He was accustomed to the MA5B, or its smaller counterpart, the MA5C assault rifle. None were in supply aboard the station, and when this first came to John's realization he had been disappointed, but like every feeling, it soon dissipated and within a few minutes he had even forgotten that he had felt it. A weapon was a weapon, if it killed, John didn't give a damn at this point.

He felt numb, even as his adrenaline was pumping fiercely through his veins and propelling him forwards towards the objective – stopping the bomb that the Covenant bastards had cleverly placed aboard. The Athens and the other space station had already succumbed to the fate of a bomb – at the time it had been unbeknownst to them, and within a second, everything was blown literally to hell.

John had survived the service held for Captain Jacob Keyes, whose death he still regretted and pitied, but then again, Keyes' passing had been one of the many deaths John was now carrying as a burden. He hadn't forgotten Reach, no matter how he could try and forget, he couldn't wipe the memory from his mind. The majority of his Spartans, except for a handful were now dead. The ones that were alive were now MIA – whisked away John learned by Dr. Halsey.

Keyes' award had been accepted by Miranda, his feisty and intelligent daughter, who in a way, reminded of someone. Who, John couldn't quite put his finger on. He didn't have enough time, though, when Lord Hood's voice had come over the station's intercom, announcing the Covenant invasion. Dozens of Covenant deaths later, Cortana had informed John that the Athens' demise had been by a bomb – and that likely there would be one on the Cairo.

Now, he was running to disarm it.

Everything lately had been hell; his life was a living hell. He loathed everything, or so it seemed. He was even beginning to detest himself. The Covenant, to make things worse, had located Earth – and they were probably entering the atmosphere now. So much for the Cole Protocol – John cursed it. It was ridiculous; he should've known that the Covenant finding Earth would be inevitable, unpreventable.

If he could survive this, disarm the damn bomb, his next mission would be to defend Earth – defend it with his Earth. This was going to be the last chance, if they couldn't defend Earth, it would be the end of this war. It would be all over for everyone.

Damn these pathetic negativities, they didn't even deserve to be called thoughts. John came around the corner, spotted a cluster of Grunts and a red-armor clad Elite. He aimed, pulled the triggers, and the sound of gunfire splitting through his ears was satisfying – it was his drug. John watched as the unsuspecting aliens screamed and tried to avoid the flying bullets, but were caught in the spray and were slaughtered – falling to the floor that was now colored in alien blood, a mixture of sky blue and dark purple.

John lowered his weapons, and continued on, not bothering to step over the dead bodies. Cortana's voice came over his intercom – almost making him jump. He cursed beneath his breath.

"You're uptight, John," she remarked, "Remember, I can read your suit's stats very easily. This new MJOLNIR armor is a big improvement from your previous installment."

"I'm fine Cortana," John answered, not planning to say anything more.

She said something, but John didn't particularly listen. His main focus was this bomb. Getting to this bomb, disarming it, and then heading to Earth. Renee was there. To think of her for one brief second made him feel things… things that were automatically pushed aside and ignored.

"_Damn this_," John thought, "_Damn this war._"

But he had to keep fighting, it was nothing new. What was new? Fight, kill, and stay alive. It was the closest thing John had to a schedule.


	43. The War's End

**Chapter Forty-Two**

**[March 3rd, 2553 – Los Angeles, California – USA – Earth]**

Renee drove down the road calmly. The windows of her car were rolled down, and the distant salty smell of the ocean drifted in, carried by the rather strong breeze that was blowing its way through Brentwood in a southwesterly direction. Her long hair was swept back carelessly into a simple ponytail, big sunglasses seemed to cover half of her face, and she had on minimal make up, though most noticeably, was the pink diamond necklace that hung around her neck, the two hearts intertwined. She had the radio turned off; for a song came on she didn't particularly care for.

It had been six months since she had awoken from her coma, another six months of her already well-wasted life discarded into the wind. It had consisted primarily of getting used to society, daily trips to the physiotherapist – relearning how walk all over again and complete normal tasks, as well as rebuilding her muscles that had all but been lost in her seventeen year slumber. It had been hell, but now Renee was proud to be able to walk and run, she could even skip. Although she doubted she'd never get back the strength she had while she was in the UNSC, she was at least able to lift her own weight, and some days, then some.

She was thirty-six, but wasn't about to start acting like it. Renee continued to be generally naïve of her age – and acted nineteen. She didn't like to even think that seventeen years of her life had been uncontrollably robbed from her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get them back. So instead of dwelling on her middle-age, she found life much easier if she just acted like the coma had never happened. Nothing about her gave her true age away – despite the fact that she had to rely a little more on cover up. She was slim – weighed even less than she had when she was in the UNSC. Amy said it was her muscles that gave her the weight, and now that she had just the normal amount of them, it had something to do with it. After her ordeal, though, Renee found it generally difficult to put on weight, anyhow, despite her indulgence in fast food on busy days where she didn't feel like cooking.

The past six months had gone by fast – the Earth was still existent, not long ago just suffered another Covenant attack. During the first attack and the destruction of New Mombasa, Renee had been in the hospital and too frustrated to pay much attention. She'd learned of John being on Earth, and half of her had been hoping that he would come to see her, but the wish soon diminished, as a couple of days passed and all news of 'The Last Spartan' dwindled – only to be picked up again as news of the second 'Halo' reached everyone's ears. A story generally unfamiliar to her, Renee followed it as closely as she could and Amy was more than happy to try and help her understand. She had summed it up for her by saying that the war had just gotten more complicated.

As time passed, Renee kept an ear out for anything to do with John, but most of the things she heard were things she already knew, or people discussing the possibility of his appearance – also something very familiar to her. Sometimes, she was tempted to tell people that she had known John, loved John, had a relationship with him, and of course knew very well what he looked like, but all talk of John-117 was kept between her and Amy.

Renee, after being able to walk again, and complete all normal tasks without aid, contemplated creating herself a resume and attempting to get a job. She managed to get a job for a short while as a cashier at a clothing store, but the idea of it bored her and she soon quit – she calculated that she had enough money from her service in the UNSC to last her a long time. With funding help from Amy, who had a surplus of money, thanks to Wayne being a doctor, Renee was able to buy a home. Moving into it was something she found very awkward, and it wasn't at all a pleasant experience. Coming home to an empty house only reminded her more of John, the man she loved so much, being so far away from her – still fighting the war she had long since left.

Sometimes, she called herself a coward, and was tempted to rejoin the UNSC, but knew it would only be suicide. The chances of meeting up with John were slim, and who knew where she'd be placed if she signed up. Although her trigger finger sometimes itched, eventually Renee accepted that the war for her was over; it had been over ever since she had been shot on Hydra.

It had taken Renee a long time before she could bear to look at herself in a full-length mirror, and even more courage to pull up her shirt to examine the scars. On her first attempt, she had been in the hospital with Amy. She only managed to get her shirt up past her bellybutton before dissolving into tears. The second time, she had been alone. She managed to lift her shirt up and take in the horror that she had been ignoring, that had been existing beneath her clothes every day. Her already pale skin had been crisscrossed with white scars. Although this time she managed to look, she had run into the bathroom and was sick. It took her an incredibly long time to accept that the scars were there for good, and they weren't going away. Her power to accept them was conjured by her belief that she was surrounded by people who loved her. Her parents, Amy and her family all accepted her scars – and eventually Renee decided she was making a big dramatic deal out of something that, comparable to John's scars, were nothing. She remembered clearly the day on Reach, in the clearing, where she had seen John naked – he was perfect physically, but his scars that covered almost every inch of his body were hardly ignorable – but John hadn't been ashamed of them. He wore them proudly, like he would wear his armor or his dress uniform. They were a part of him. That's when Renee decided she would do the same, for John had to wake up every day and face a similar body, defaced by countless scars.

Every day, she found herself wondering about John, where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking – everything. Even though her memories of him were as strong as ever, with each passing day their relationship that they had shared seemed to be fading into the background. He wasn't here; he was light years away, fighting. Often she found herself worrying – not just about John's safety, but John himself. She was commonly haunted by the voice she had heard from the battle-hardened soldier in MJOLNIR armor – cold, emotionless. Even during the time she had known him, his voice had never been that cold and monotone. She knew the John from seventeen years ago, but did she know the John now? The voice was so different, would that mean the man beneath the helmet would be as well? When John returned to her, would he be the same, or would he be like some horror-story veteran who sat alone in a room, remained silent and secluded themselves from the outside world, constantly haunted by the memories of war? If John came home hardened and bitter, would she be able to soften him? Would she be able to get through all the barriers to the John she had known, or would it be too late? Would the John she knew be permanently erased?

As Renee pulled off the highway into downtown LA, she was surprised by the crowds of people she saw in the streets. Normally on a day like this, there would be a fair amount of people out and about; shopping or just enjoying the warm weather, but the amounts of people were greater than usual – exponentially greater.

She momentarily questioned the date, looking for the possibility of a holiday, but March 3rd had no particular significance she knew of. As she drove past, she saw the people were happy, some of them dancing about – some of them tossing their hats and random objects into the air. What was going on?

"The war is over!" she suddenly heard people cheering; "The war is over!"

Renee felt a weird feeling wash over her, a flopping of her stomach. The war was over? Since when?

She suddenly jumped when her cell phone rang – bursting its ringtone loudly into her ears. Keeping her eyes on the road, she fished into her purse to withdraw the persistent device, flipped it open, and held it to her ear. She didn't say anything at first – she wasn't sure she had the breath. A couple of seconds passed, and Amy's voice chimed in her ear. It was excited.

"Renee?"

"Yeah," Renee replied breathlessly, her voice faint. She had to swallow a couple of times.

"You wouldn't believe it!" Amy squealed, "The war is over! It's finally over! It's on the news, quick; get your ass over here!"

"You're joking," Renee allowed herself to laugh, although she knew Amy wasn't even close to joking.

"No!" Amy sounded as giddy as a little girl, and she let out a loud laugh. Troy could be heard in the background, he was yelling something – also sounding very happy.

"I'll be there in five minutes," Renee finally said, and she flipped the cell phone closed, and discarding it onto the passenger's seat. She felt nervous, a bubbly, strange feeling welling up inside of her. As she drove along the streets, she allowed herself to laugh – truly laugh, for the first time in a long time. As she laughed, she didn't try to stop the tears that freely ran down her cheeks.

* * *

When Renee arrived at the Brown household, she walked into excitement equivalent to the cheering crowds she'd seen on the street. Amy came running out of the living room, one hand holding a glass of beer. She flung her arms around her friend, sloshing the beer on Renee's shirt and the floor, but the two of them didn't care. They held each other in a tight hug, laughing.

"Come on, we've got the TV on!" Amy grabbed Renee by the hand, and led her down the hallway, but they had barely turned the corner when Troy, now a big boy of eleven, launched himself at Renee in a similar manner to his mother. There was no doubt he had a fair amount of Amy Smythe running through his veins.

"Renee!" He cried, and Renee let out a little gasp as she was almost knocked off balance as Troy wrapped his arms around her in a tight little hug, and beamed up at her, although there wasn't much of a size difference between the two, "The war's over! We kicked the Covenant's asses!"

Renee and Amy laughed, but Wayne scolded him from across the room.

"Troy, don't echo everything your mother says," he said, though there was an underlying hint of amusement in his voice.

"It's just a word," Amy nagged back, but she shrugged when she got a disapproving look from Renee as well. Almost regrettably, she looked down to her son. With a sigh, she declared, "Don't say that word, Troy, please."

Wayne got up got up from the chair and crossed the living room, where the news was blasting from their large plasma television. Giving Amy a peck on the cheek, he then accepted a hug from Renee once she had freed herself from Troy's strong grip. Troy jumped excitedly around the adults, crying repeatedly, "The war is over! The war is over! Whoo hoo!" He cried his repetitive message all the way into the living room, where he skipped around the furniture – until Wayne went back in with him and told him to settle down, and Troy was quick to protest.

Amy let Renee into the kitchen, away from the little squabble that instantly started between the two boys. She sighed, setting down her glass of beer on the counter and opening the fridge.

"What can I get you?" Amy asked cheerfully, but when Renee didn't answer, she glanced up to see Renee standing there, mesmerized, staring off into space. She snapped her fingers at her, and Renee glanced up, startled.

"Sorry," she laughed a little, "What?"

"You still can't really believe it, can you?" Amy grinned, not bothering to wait for Renee's choice of drink. She picked for her, taking out a bottle of beer from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard.

"Not really," Renee said almost breathlessly, "To think, after all this time it's finally over… and John… he'll be coming home!"

"And he'll have a wonderful surprise," Amy smiled as she opened the bottle of beer with a loud crack and poured the glass full almost to the brim. She took a sip from it, so that it wouldn't spill, and then handed it to Renee, who took it with a muttered thank you.

Amy looked at her and laughed.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Amy asked, "I want to hear your predictions. What will you do when you find John standing on your doorstep? I'm sure he'll have no problem finding where you live."

"I don't know," Renee sighed deeply, "Hug him, kiss him for sure."

"For sure," Amy agreed, "I might too, you know, if you don't mind."

The two laughed together.

"I want to know long term though," Amy pressed, thoughtfully, "Don't tell me you haven't at least thought about it. When John comes back, he won't be fighting anymore. He'll be with you all the time… you'll be together, finally. After all these years, you'll both truly get what you want."

"We'll have to be reacquainted, that's for sure," Renee told her, "I mean I doubt he's the John I knew in 2535. That John might still exist, but I think it will take a bit of coaxing to get him to come back out of his shell."

"Perhaps," Amy sipped her beer, a small smirk coming on her face, "What exactly do you mean by getting reacquainted?" she raised her eyebrows, "Oh… I can understand your logic. Seventeen years of no interaction with a woman, poor John will be the epitome of a sexually frustrated man."

Renee chuckled deeply.

"You're still bloody vulgar!" Renee lowered her voice, "You're a married woman with a little boy and you're still the sicko I knew when I was growing up."

Amy let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back.

"Come on, would you love me if I was some boring old bag?" Amy snorted, "I may be married, and I may have a son, but that doesn't mean I have to get right damn boring. And look, I made you laugh, and you're blushing. Just like old times, eh?"

"Just like old times," Renee admitted.

Amy raised her glass.

"Cheers to that," she smiled, "And cheers to the war being over, and John's safe return."

"Cheers," Renee grinned.

They clinked glasses, and each took a drink. Suddenly Wayne called from the living room:

"The news is back on!"

"Come on!" Amy was giddy, and she dragged Renee back into the living room, and they all settled back down onto the furniture to watch the excitement. Troy was seated on the floor, as close to the screen as possible, holding his own bowl of potato chips on his lap, shoveling them into his mouth, eyes glued to the screen. Although Amy relaxed back onto the couch, Renee found herself seated on the edge of her seat, watching the television with giddy anticipation.

"_As you may know, the Human-Covenant War has finally ended today. This is a huge milestone in our history, and as a major victory for human kind. Many believe that the war could not have been won without the alliance with the Sangheili, or Elites, who, after realizing the Covenant's mission as one of heresy, joined forces with the UNSC – highly influenced by the Arbiter, who had taken the first step in his species' alliance with us, when he joined forces with the Master Chief – another iconic individual in this war…._" One of the two common news reporters, Mitch was saying. His partner, Anne, sat beside him, and the both of them were smiling, looking truly excited, as if they wished they could be out joining the worldwide celebration instead of delivering the scripted news.

"_Celebrations are taking place all over the globe,_" Anne happily announced, and beside her it showed series of videos – all of a similar nature, people out and about celebrating, holding up signs, "_And no one is reprimanding them – this is a very, very exciting time._"

She and Mitch suddenly looked off camera, and Anne reached out to accept a freshly printed paper.

"_This is just in,_" she announced, "_We have just received news of the memorial service being held in memory of those lost during the war. It was held by Lord Terrence Hood, in accompaniment of the Arbiter himself, who had just recently returned to Earth aboard the highly battered ship, Forward Unto Dawn. Among those dead are Sergeant Avery Johnson and Commander Miranda Keyes, the daughter of the late Captain Jacob Keyes, who was killed in the battle of Instillation 04, in September 2552."_

The news flashed to a video of the memory service, as Anne continued to talk over it. Lord Hood was standing solemnly by the memorial statue, and beside him was Arbiter, who towered above the rest present, though the conversation they were having was muted.

"Damn, it'd be nice to know what they're saying," Amy remarked, "I'd like to hear what that split chin has to say about what all his species has done! I won't forget that it was his kind who killed Troy."

Troy glanced back over his shoulder, although he clearly knew it wasn't him being talked about, and he looked back to the TV. He was well aware that he had been named after Troy Fisher.

Suddenly, the audio came on, as Anne finished talking.

"_I remember how this war started, what your kind did to mine,_" Lord Hood was saying to the Arbiter, "_But, you have my thanks._" With that, the camera closed in on their hands, as he extended his to the Arbiter's and, with a moment's pause, the alien shook it.

"_… For standing by him to the end,_" Hood continued, "_Hard to believe he's dead._"

"Mom?" Troy glanced back over his shoulder to look at Amy, "Who's he talking about?"

"Shhh!" Amy quickly hushed him.

"_Were it so easy_," the Arbiter solemnly replied.

Renee was sitting there, and slowly, she felt all feeling leaving her. _For standing by him to the end. Hard to believe he's dead._ She remembered, the only fully known partnership the Arbiter had was with…

John.

All color left her face, as she stared at the screen, as it cut to a video of the memorial cenotaph – a large piece of metal adorned with pictures, flowers and other memorabilia of those fallen. The camera zoomed in, and slowly panned across the pictures – people she recognized as Sergeant Johnson, Commander Keyes, and other soldiers she had seen their pictures of on the news over the last while. Finally, the camera stopped, and zoomed in; rising above the pictures to the metal, where an insignia was hastily taped there, with a piece of tape placed over one star to display the rank of Master Chief Petty Officer. Beside it, scratched into the metal, was the number 117.

Amy swallowed, and a deathly silence filled the room for a few moments, and she glanced to Wayne, then Troy, then to Renee, who was sitting motionless – staring at the screen.

"Mom…" Troy began, but then a loud smash echoed through the room as Renee's glass slipped from her fingers and smashed into tiny pieces, scattering across the floor. She let out a little gasp, as the news flashed back to Mitch and Anne, who suddenly looked very solemn.

"_We weren't aware of this before,_" Mitch announced,"_But apparently, we have lost yet another hero, Spartan-117, or Master Chief… he was last seen by the Arbiter in the hatch of the Forward Unto Dawn, but only half of the ship returned to Earth…"_

"NO!" Renee screamed, and instantly everything changed. She stared at the TV, sliding off the couch into the shards of broken glass and spilled beer, not caring, she screamed again, looking accusingly at the TV. Amy quickly fell to the floor with Renee, wrapping her arms around her. Wayne shot up and hurried to the kitchen, muttering something about getting a broom.

Troy slowly got to his feet, looking down at his mother and Renee, who was hysterically sobbing.

"Mommy…" he began, his lip quivering, "What's…"

"Just go to your room, honey," Amy told him, "Everything's fine, just go to your room, and play one of your video games like a good boy, okay?"

Troy didn't say anything, but he nodded and quickly left the room, pausing only once in the doorway to look one last time with concern at Renee.

"Renee," Amy said to her softly, who had curled up as much as possible amongst the shattered pieces of glass, "Let's get you out of this mess; there's broken glass, you don't want to cut yourself."

"It can't be true!" Renee was limp as Amy helped her up off the floor, back onto the couch. Her body was shaken with sobs, and she stared at her hands, which were bleeding – several dozen shards of glass had embedded themselves in her skin. She paused to let out several choked sobs, rocking slightly, "He can't be dead, Amy. He can't be…"

"Come with me, okay?" Amy had to fight back her own urge to cry, "We can't leave those pieces of glass in your hands, come with me to the bathroom…"

Taking her into the bathroom was a better way to get privacy, and Amy shut the door. Renee sat numbly on the edge of the bathtub, holding her hands out in front of her, crying hysterically.

"Tell me it's a dream," she shrieked, "Tell me it's a dream!"

Amy got a pair of tweezers and a towel quickly, and crossed the room to her friend, and looked into Renee's eyes. She slowly shook her head, regretting the words she had to say:

"It's not a dream."

Renee let out a strangled sob, and shook her head, several more tears cascading down her cheeks. She raised her shaking hand, and jerked a piece of glass from her own hand, blind to the pain. She plucked out another, tossing it aside, ignoring Amy's efforts to try and help her. Finally, she gave up, and slid off the tub, and buried her face in Amy's shoulder, hugging her as tightly as she could.

"He can't be dead," she cried out, "I can't lose him, Amy! I can't lose him! How can… how can I live without him! No, no, they have to be wrong!"

Amy hugged Renee silently, tears running down her own face, listening to her grieving friend's prayers.

"They have to be wrong," Renee repeated, her voice growing soft, "They have to be wrong."

Amy stroked Renee's long hair, heaving a big sigh.

"There's no one to confirm he's dead," she whispered, "They're not sure. He's MIA, Renee. MIA… that doesn't necessarily mean he's dead."

"But, the Arbiter, and Lord Hood, they said…" Renee whimpered.

"How would they know for sure?" Amy was determined to be positive, and she sniffled, wiping her nose. She pulled back from the hug and held Renee at arm's length, looking to her eyes. She was silent for a few moments, but then declared, "I don't know about you – but I don't believe it. I'm not going to believe it until they have evidence, Renee. The day they bring John's body back to Earth is the day I will believe he's dead. Think of all he's been through, do you think, just because half of that stupid ship is missing means he's dead? I think it would take a lot more than that to kill John. He's tough as nails… it would be easier for me, Renee, if you believe with me – share my beliefs. John's not dead, we don't know he is."

Renee let out a deep shaky sigh, and shook her head.

"But… you don't know he isn't…"

"Stop being so negative!" Amy gave Renee a little shake, "We don't know he's dead, and we don't know he's alive but we can hope! Hope with me that he's alive, and that he's going to come home to you Renee. He's going to come home, wind up on your doorstep… and you two will live a happy life together, you understand me? A happy life, you'll get married, maybe you'll even have children, you'll be happy."

Renee covered her face with one hand, and wiped her tears away.

"I'll try to believe," she whimpered, "It's just… so hard…"

"I know," Amy answered, "This isn't easy for me either… but we both can't let ourselves lose hope. I won't accept John's death, until they have proof, Renee. You're going to do the same, and you're going to believe he's coming home to you. If John is alive, then he will do anything possible to come home to you, even if he has to hitch a ride on a freakin' asteroid he'll find his way back to Earth. He loves you, and that's one of the last things he said to you, Renee, was that he will always love you, and that he will see you again."

Renee took a deep breath, and forced herself to nod. Amy gave her another hug, and then looked down to Renee's hands, which were still bloody and riddled with glass.

"Now," she said, "Let's deal with this problem."

**[SPACE – DETACHED HALF OF THE **_**FORWARD UNTO DAWN**_**]**

John awoke to a zero gravity environment – darkness. He felt himself floating, and as he shrugged off unconsciousness, he realized his surroundings – he was still on the _Dawn_. It was dark, except for the lights emitted from his helmet. Cortana's voice suddenly reached his ears:

"Chief? Chief?" she sighed, sounding suddenly relieved, "I thought I lost you too."

John slowly rotated himself, to glance around the dark interiors of the ship. A bunch of objects were floating around him – he gave himself a little push to get himself fully turned around, and gazed to where he expected to see the hallways of the ship continue, but instead, it was cut off. He saw the blackness of space, glittering stars. Immediately, he was confused.

"What happened?" He demanded, his voice sounding loud in the deafening silence, as he allowed himself to float towards the opening.

"I'm not sure," Cortana replied, and after a moment's silence, she continued, "When Halo fired, it shook itself to pieces; did a number on the Ark. The portal couldn't sustain itself, we made it through just as it collapsed…" she paused again, "Well… some of us made it."

John gazed out into space, realizing at least half the ship was missing – the piece he was in, was just floating aimlessly in the vacuum. He felt emotion threatening to advance on him, so he turned his back on the scene, and slowly swam his way back through the zero gravity, down the dark hallways, further into the interior of the ship, until he reached the holographic panel. He reached back, jerked Cortana's chip from the back of his helmet, and slipped it into the slot. Cortana's holographic image shivered to life in front of him – lighting up the space around them.

"You did it," Cortana smiled slightly, "Truth, and the Covenant, the Flood… it's finished."

John looked at her for a moment, and then gave a small nod of his head.

"It's finished," he agreed lowly, and then turned away from her, propelling himself through the zero gravity over to a weapon rack, where he removed his assault rifle, and placed it in one of the slots. He paused for a moment, letting his hand linger on the weapon, which in the past few days, had been so handy to him. It's finished, yes, it was, but what was there now?

He and Cortana were floating in the middle of nowhere.

"I'll drop a beacon," Cortana told him, "But it will be a while before anyone finds us… years even."

John made his way to the nearest cryo tube, and slowly positioned himself, pushing himself down into the compartment. Years even, her words echoed in his mind. He couldn't really grasp it; the war was finally over, there was no more fighting for him to do.

His mind was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of memories – a familiar face – a young girl, with brown hair and matching eyes, a pretty little smile, dainty nose… Renee. For a moment, he was surprised by the vividness of the memory. It was the clearest he had been able to remember her in… years…

Renee was on Earth – which, for all he knew, could be hundreds of light years away. Was she still in a coma? If she wasn't, he knew she would be surely waiting for him. What would she think when the news reached Earth that he hadn't come back? That he was missing? Would they assume him dead? He felt, for the first time, a longing in his heart to be with her. He could feel it slowly begin to pound – he wanted to be with her. He made the mental decision, there and then, that if anyone found them, he would go to her; he could finally have the life with her that he had always wanted – but had recently forced out of his mind. Was it possible? A normal, happy, human life? The war was over now, what else would they need him for. It was over, and probably, to everyone, he was good as dead.

"_I promise you, Renee,_" he thought, "_I promise you, if I ever wake up, if I'm ever found, that I will come home to you. I have not forgotten you, I still… love you."_

He watched as the hatch of the cryo tube slowly closed around him.

"I'll miss you," Cortana whispered quietly.

Just before the hatch closed, John said:

"Wake me, when you need me."

The hatch closed, and John's last thoughts as the cold enveloped him, were of Renee. For the first time in the long time, a smile came onto his lips – and a part of him wished Cortana could have seen it.

As Cortana watched John fall into the almost immediate cryo sleep, she glanced out towards the visible space, where for a moment she thought her eyes were fooling her – but her eyes didn't do such things. She didn't make mistakes. Looming out of the black vacuum, indefinitely, was a planet. Whether it was terrestrial or not, Cortana realized that what was left of the _Forward unto Dawn _was floating directly towards it.


	44. Just Call It A Rescue

**Chapter Forty Three**

**[June 2553 – Exact Location Unknown]**

John slowly floated into consciousness – the cold that had enveloped him slowly disappearing. In his semi-conscious state, he could start feeling his outer limbs, his feet and hands – and the feeling slowly crept its way up into his body, until finally he had entire feeling. He forced his eyes open, and saw, beyond his visor the glass of the cryo tube that was enclosing him – and what he saw beyond the glass was what threw him off: daylight. For a moment, he had to make sure it wasn't the light given off Cortana's holographic panel – and it wasn't. The light projected from the panel had a blue tint – this had a yellowish tint, the color of the sun's rays. The question was that sun? Cortana was waking him for something – she must need him, he mused, recalling the last words he had spoken to her.

There was a hiss, and slowly the cryo tube opened, and the last remnants of the cryo gasses dissipated into the air, and John forced himself into a sitting position, and saw Cortana, changing colors from blue to purple and back again, her arms folded on her chest.

"You need me?" John croaked.

"Take a look around," Cortana told him, gesturing with her arm, "We're not in space anymore."

John looked to his right, and once, where he had looked upon the black vacuum filled with thousands of glittering stars, he now saw dirt, grass, shrubs, trees – and through the leaves, blue sky.

"A planet?" John asked, his voice still hoarse. He paused to clear his throat, and went to speak, but Cortana bet him to the punch, she wasn't about to let him ask individual questions, she decided it would be best to answer any possible ones that could be running through that thick skull of his.

"Yes, a terrestrial planet obviously, what one however, I don't know," Cortana told him, "Atmosphere of nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon dioxide and trace amounts of other gases, some different from Earth, but a breathable atmosphere none the less. You've been in cryo for about two months if you follow military time – we crashed onto this planet roughly sixty days ago, though I didn't bother to wake you, until now."

"What's going on?" John asked, climbing from the cryo tube, where he proceeded to do a series of stretches, flexes and bending his knees – his body was stiff – the wounds he had when he entered cryo hadn't gone anywhere, hadn't improved either. Cryo stasis halted even the growth and repair of human cells.

"I've detected _human _life," Cortana replied simply, "Not far from here. A couple of times I could hear their voices, speaking English. Whether they're here looking for us or not, if they have a working space ship, they're our ticket out of here, Chief."

"Finally," John answered, "Though I'm not going to exactly go up to them and ask to hitch a ride."

"Why not?" Cortana ridiculed him, "The war's over. They aren't our enemies – they're _your _species. They surely will have food, water, things you need."

"They'll know who I am," John walked over to retrieve his assault rifle that had faithfully stayed put in the weapon rack, "I'm going in stealth – I'll find their ship before them, slip aboard…"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Cortana interrupted, "It's not going to be another hijacking…"

"No," John was momentarily amused, but pushed that feeling aside, "It's going to be a more subtle approach, don't worry. I won't fire a shot, won't harm a soul. I'm done fighting," he looked down to the weapon in his hand.

"Then why do you have _that_?" Cortana questioned.

"I never said anything about not threatening anyone," John said, "Who knows who these people are. They could be pirates. I need some leverage if they aren't willing to cooperate and take us back to Earth."

Cortana sighed, and shook her head.

"Well, it's good to have you back," she admitted, "I missed your company, Chief."

"You don't need to call me that anymore," John said, walking over to the holographic panel, but he snatched Cortana's chip from the slot, then slipped it into his neural interface. Cortana's voice filled his head as he began walking out of the ship.

"What do you want me to call you then?" Cortana pressed, "John?"

"Yes," John gave a little nod. He had plans, he had exact plans on what he was going to do once he got on that ship, but he wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea to tell Cortana. He finally decided he wasn't going to tell her.

"You're thinking," Cortana nagged, "A lot."

"I'm contemplating how I'm going to do this," John answered.

"Care to tell me?" she pressed.

"I already did."

Cortana sighed, but fell silent.

John headed into the trees, moving quietly, stealthily. Each footstep he placed with absolute care – and as he kept walking, he heard the voices Cortana must have been talking about. He was drawing close enough to hear them, but nothing was showing up on his HUD. They mustn't be UNSC personnel; all UNSC personnel had standard neural interfaces, for this exact type of situation, for identification purposes.

This made John on-guard, if they weren't of the UNSC, they could be possible enemies. He walked closer, until he could see them through a gap in the trees. He crouched instantly, and stealthily peered out at them through the foliage.

There was a group of ten, all human, indefinitely – and they were dressed in camo-clothes, cargo pants, jackets, t-shirts, and what looked to be military-issue boots. John quickly took note of a pistol on each one of their hips. Some of them wore hats, some of them bandanas, some of them sunglasses. One of them was smoking, the other chewing on a rather large wad of gum.

"Come on, we have to keep searching," the one smoking said, "There's obviously no one here in this exact location."

"Shut up, will you?" a man wearing sunglasses snapped.

"There was a distress beacon sent out aroun' this planet," the man with the gum protested, "Around this exact area too. If there's anyone alive, they'll probably want a way off."

"You're too impatient, Bayle," a woman told him.

"Look, we're gettin' paid to search the damn universe for any survivors, any soldiers gone astray, and standing 'ere talkin' 'bout it isn't going to help," the man named Bayle replied – John took note of his thick British accent, "There was a ship by this planet, and it must've landed around 'ere somewhere, let's get a move on."

"I told you they're here looking for us," Cortana whispered, causing John to momentarily jump.

"I'm not going out there," John whispered back, "I'm finding their ship – getting aboard."

"I don't see how this will change anything, Chie – John," Cortana protested, "Whether you are here in the forest or on their ship, they'll obviously find you. You can't hide the fact that you're a Spartan."

John didn't answer to that. He had a plan. He watched silently as the group of humans moved on, and once all sounds of them drifted away, John darted out from the bushes into the clearing. Using his quick tactics, he quickly retraced their steps by finding snapped branches and the trampled grass. Ten people couldn't move through such dense forest without leaving some traces that they had been there.

As he followed their trail, he found more obvious signs – a discarded gum wrapper, some cigarette ashes that were tapped out on a large boulder – John didn't miss a detail. Finally, he came to a large clearing, where he saw it – the space ship. Instantly, he realized it was a UNSC frigate – that calmed him a little.

These people were clearly inexperienced – motivated to look for the survivors with money, as the man named Bayle had said. John almost laughed – they left their ship open to anyone, no one to guard it. He was tempted to just take it, and leave them there, but that would be too obnoxious for his plan.

"You're just going to go in?" Cortana asked.

"Yes," John nodded.

"Alright John, that's _very _subtle." Sarcasm filled her voice.

John darted across the clearing, and up into the ship. Surprisingly, as soon as he had set foot into it, his HUD filled with distant yellow blips: UNSC personnel. This made him relieved, but only a little. He still had to get to the nearest cryo or storage bay without anyone seeing him. The hallways were empty.

He stealthily walked down them, his eyes glued to his HUD, but he was well aware that there could be more people aboard like the ones he had seen in the forest, ones that had no neural interfaces that wouldn't show up on his HUD. If he wasn't careful, he could run right into someone.

He was doing this for strict anonymity – he needed the Master Chief everyone knew to stay MIA, stay dead to the universe. The John-117 that no one knew was the one that he had to make a debut. He wasn't going to be seen as Master Chief from now on – he would be seen as a human. He would be seen as John. No Spartan.

Though he had doubts – he was too tall, too pale, too scarred to blend in with everyone, but a story could be conjured up to deal with the quizzical looks he would no doubt receive, and to answer the questions he would no doubt be asked. For anyone who asked, his name would be simply John. He had been simply a marine, or maybe… a simple deck hand that had been tortured by the Covenant. That would cover for the scars; bruises and wounds that he knew covered his body. He was pale, well, he'd been in space. He was tall, well, so was the rest of his family. He was muscular, well; he liked to regularly hit the gym. It was a story that could be easily made up, and if told in the right way, could be easily believed. Or so he hoped.

John knew however, that there were things that couldn't be covered up by any kind of story. Things that would immediately give away what he was, such as his reflexes of point milliseconds, his ability to lift over five times his weight, his extreme intelligence and knowledge about anything Human-Covenant war related. He decided, he would have to act as normal as possible. Let things drop, lift things of only normal human ability, and act generally stupid about the war – naïve perhaps, maybe even a little cocky. He knew for certain he wasn't going to act friendly; he didn't want anyone drawn towards him, no one to be there following him around or watching his every move.

The layout of the frigate was familiar, almost identical to that of the _Dawn_, so John was able to easily calculate the hallways he could take that would be less likely occupied. There were a couple of times were John thought he was going to be seen – he had to duck quickly into a adjacent hallway or perhaps a closet room to avoid a passing person, but he felt absolutely relieved when he reached the storage room. He ducked into the dark, cool room and went to the nearest desk he spotted, where, he began to remove his armor. He knew he couldn't do this without Cortana commenting.

"What are you doing!" she exclaimed.

"Removing my armor," John replied, "Listen Cortana, this might seem crazy, but there's a reason why I'm doing this, a reason I'm not going to bother explaining to you. You don't know everything about me."

"Obviously I don't!" Cortana replied, but she sounded less upset after a moment, "I know whatever you're doing isn't stupid."

"No, it isn't," John said, removing his arm pieces and setting them onto the table, "I'm chasing after something from years ago."

"What could that possibly be?" Cortana asked.

"Let's just say I have an opportunity to do something I couldn't do before," John told her, "And, in order to do this, I'm going to have to say good bye to you, Cortana. Possibly for good."

"You can't just leave me in the hands of these people," Cortana said, "They're unprofessional."

"I'm not going to," John replied, "I'll find someone to trust."

"I thought you didn't trust anyone."

"I can, Cortana," John replied.

"Okay, I do believe you," Cortana sounded slightly amused, "There are things I don't know about you, John. But I admit, I'm a little offended you're not going to tell me."

"Some things I need to keep classified," John said.

"Will I ever see you again?" Cortana asked.

"Perhaps."

"Well," Cortana hesitated, "I said it before, but I'll say it again. It's been one hell of an honor working with you, John."

John actually allowed himself to smile.

"Likewise Cortana," he replied.

She sighed.

"Whenever you're ready, yank me," she repeated her old phrase.

John reached back to the base of his skull, and his fingers closed around her crystal data chip – and hesitated. Cortana had been the only one there for him all this time.

"I'll miss you," he said.

"No, I'll miss _you_." Cortana replied, and then she was silent. John let out a little chuckle, and then he closed his eyes, and removed her chip from his helmet, and then gazed at the churning blue and purple crystal as it lay in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you, Cortana," he whispered, and then he carefully set the chip on the table, where he proceeded to remove the rest of the body pieces from his armor – until they were all laid out on the table and he was left standing in his black matte body suit. Finally, John removed his helmet, and set it on the table, beside Cortana's chip. He stared into the orange visor for a few moments – at the face of the man looking back at him. This man had long, greasy brown hair – matted in some places, bloody in the others – way beyond the military length. The bangs were almost down to his thick eyebrows, hair sprawling down over his back of his neck. Cold, black eyes stared at him, sunken deeply into their sockets, - a straight nose, which had managed to remain unbroken, had dried blood all around it. The thin line of a mouth, had also traces of blood from each corner. Facial hair that was slightly a lighter brown than the hair on his head, had grown quite long – but not long enough to be a beard. The face was pale, scarred, bloody, scratched, bruised. Ugly. But it was _his _face.

John, feeling disgusted, turned the helmet away from him, so he couldn't see the visor.

All of a sudden, John heard voices, footsteps, coming towards the storage bay. Immediately he shot into action, bolted into the shadows by the door, and waited.

The door opened, and the man named Bayle walked in. He muttered something to himself, and then turned to look to his right, and then just as he was turning his head to look to his left, where he would no doubt see the armor laid out on the table, John shot out of the shadows, wrapped his arm around his neck and got him in a tight choke hold. Bayle let out a gasp.

"Don't move," John kept his voice a gravelly, emotionless growl, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" Bayle demanded, though he didn't sound particularly scared.

John didn't answer that question, instead he said:

"I need clothes, food, water, and you're going to get them for me, understand? You go and get them, say nothing to anyone, and bring them back to me. Leave them right by the door. I mean no harm, I only want off this damned planet."

"Understandable, sir," Bayle replied, "But you would make me feel a lil' bit safer if you…"

"Shut up," John snapped, "You headed to Earth?"

"Yes," Bayle nodded.

"Good, now get me what I asked for," John said, releasing him, "If you turn around, I'll rip your eyeballs right from their sockets," he gave him a shove towards the door.

"I'm complacent, sir, don't worry," Bayle said, not even moving his head a little, as he headed towards the door, "I'll do as you asked. Clothes, food, water, you got 'em. Earth, we'll take you there. I don't want to lose my eyes, sir, don't worry about that."

"Wait," John said, and Bayle froze immediately, not moving.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're not UNSC personnel."

"No, sir," Bayle replied, "Employed by the UNSC, but not a soldier, sir. I'm not even sure if I can shoot the gun on my hip, 'ere."

"How many marines have you rescued?"

"Oh, quite a few, sir," Bayle answered, "Quite a few, though I must say I haven't encountered one like you… you know, if you don't particularly look the best, I'm not going to say nothin'…"

"You turn around, you're dead," John repeated.

"Alright, alright, sir, my apologies, sir," Bayle said, "I'll be goin' to get your stuff, sir… but would you mind if I just asked you what your name be? And your service num'er? Just so I can write it, we've got a list, just so that we keep track of…"

"My name is John," John said.

"Last name?" Bayle pressed cautiously, "Service number, sir?"

"Let my last name be yours," John ordered.

"Bayle, sir?" Bayle asked, "You sure?"

"You ask too many questions, damn you," John snarled, "Yes! John Bayle, but spell it different if you can."

"I could get rid of the y?"

"Yes, whatever," John snapped.

"And, one last thing, sir, your service num'er…"

"5463." John did it fast. If one would add 54 and 63 together, it equaled 117. Good enough.

"Alright sir, 5463, got it. John Bale, without the y, sir. Got it, sir."

"Get going!" John shouted, losing his patience. He shoved Bayle out the door – and he didn't object. He didn't look around either; he hurried off down the hallway. For a moment, John wished he could put his helmet back on and Cortana's chip back in to talk to her, but John realized it would only make it harder for him to let her go.

He had spoken to her for possibly the last time, and when he would get to Earth, he would hand her over to a UNSC officer, or to any member of the ONI he could find. Cortana contained too much information, that if she fell into the wrong hands, even if the war was over, it could be disaster. For himself, though, John wondered, was the war truly over? If the war itself was, his journey surely wasn't. This trip back to Earth – a place he couldn't even honestly call home – would be a journey within itself. Co-existing with everyone on this frigate would be a hard thing to do – but John knew he couldn't rely on Bayle to get him everything. Bayle couldn't go use the bathroom for him.

John would, once he had adequate clothes, go out and attempt to mix in with everyone else. Attempt was the only word possible.

His name now, he had to remember, would be, without the y, John Bale, service number 5463. He was a marine – tortured by Covenant, which would be his excuse if Bayle ever questioned him about the hostile requests for food, water and clothes. That could cover for his threats; he was disturbed by it all – mentally disturbed by the war. John carefully developed his character in his mind as he proceeded to move the table containing all of his armor, out of sight for when Bayle came back, although he carefully took Cortana's chip in his hand.

A character, John realized, that wasn't so much different from his true self. He wasn't mentally disturbed however – or so he figured. John knew though, that there would be images and memories that he had seen that he would not be able to erase from his mind, memories that would without a doubt come back and haunt him in his dreams until the end of his days.

Well, it wasn't like he could expect to walk away clean from all of this. He had been fighting for… what was it now? John quickly calculated: twenty seven years. Had it truly been that long? And to think, he had been in the UNSC for longer than that – since he was just a boy. He had his physical scars, and, although they may not have surfaced yet, he had his mental ones.

John was satisfied that Bayle would have no clue who he was – and by the time anyone discovered the disassembled MJOLNIR armor in the storage room, John would be well blended in with everyone aboard, or long gone. That's why it had been so important for Bayle not to look around. If he had, John might have just had to have lived up to his hasty threats on killing him. No one but a few select people – only a handful of them were still alive, knew what the face of Master Chief looked like. It couldn't change. As well, by the time Bayle handed that list over to whoever he would give it to, and that they would discover there was no John Bale of the marine corps, John would as well, be long gone into the society of civilian life – or so he hoped. If he could blend in, that is.

To everyone but Renee Kilburn and Amy Smythe, Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 was dead, or most commonly stated as MIA. The men and women at the ONI would never list a Spartan as KIA, for morale issues, to give the illusion that Spartans never die. John only wished that would be true. He remembered going into the augmentations with seventy five of his fellow friends and soldiers, only to have half them come out alive. He remembered abandoning Sam on that Covenant ship, and watching it explode. He remembered coming across Grace's body, or, half of it – her blood everywhere. He remembered learning of the deaths of all those on Reach. Spartans could die.

And, yes, Master Chief was dead.

But no, John was alive. Very alive, and finally, after all of this fighting – he finally had a chance at a normal life on Earth. How close to normal, he wasn't sure, but as long as everyone could be fooled, that Master Chief was still MIA, amidst the stars and space dust, somewhere light years away, he would be fine.

John heard the footsteps coming again, and this time, he darted behind a large storage box, completely concealing himself in shadows. He heard the hiss as the doors opened, and Bayle's echoing, odd sounding voice reach his ears.

"'ere you are, Mr. John Bale," Bayle announced, and a sound of him setting something on the floor could be heard, a softer sound at first – the clothes, then a louder sound, a tray of food, "Gotcha some food, water, clothes, just like you asked for. The clothes might be a lil' big, but it was the only size available."

John almost smirked. Clothes too big? Impossible. They'd probably be too small.

"Thank you," John called, keeping his voice deep, disguised.

"Just to let you know, wherever you are," Bayle said, not able to pinpoint the sound of his voice within the large room, "We're gonna be takin' off soon – headed straight into Slipspace, en route to Earth, so you got nothin' to worry about, sir. We'll 'ave you home in no time. That's where you're from isn't it?"

"Yes," John lied. He wished he could be from Earth.

"Bravo, me too," Bayle sounded friendly, like he wanted John to come out, but he wasn't going to. No way in hell. After a moment, Bayle said, "Well, I'll be around. Wouldn't hurt to maybe come out and mingle, sir, or have a shower, perhaps. We got water to last us for a bit."

John waited until Bayle had left, the doors had closed behind him and his footsteps faded away down the hallway before he came out. He rushed to the pile of folded clothes, which consisted of boxers, socks, boots, cargo pants, a muscle shirt, and a jacket – an old UNSC jacket to be exact. John stripped off his body suit, and before getting into the clothes, took a moment to examine himself. Looking down at his ghostly pale body was something he never liked – but this time particularly hated. The scars were visible, the newer ones being a dull pink, the older ones white. An open wound had yet not healed, and it was oozing sticky blood. John would have looked closer, but he just couldn't. His own body sickened him. He quickly got into the garments. They were a bit snug, especially across the chest area. Too short on the jacket sleeves, so John rolled them up to his elbows. The pants were a few inches too short as well, so John ripped them off at the knees. Once he had gotten his wardrobe situated, he slipped Cortana's glowing chip into his breast pocket of his jacket.

Then, he fell to the floor, and dug into the food. Bayle had been generous, he had supplied him with one liter of water, which John chugged half of in the first moment, four energy bars, a couple of bags of dried fruit, a can of cold soup, and a package of pepperoni. It was all food taken from ration packs, John realized, nothing that would easily expire, but he didn't care. He wolfed down the food, using his fingers to shovel it into his mouth. It wasn't until he tasted food that he realized how starving he had been. He pretty much drank the soup from the can, not caring about the sharp edges, he got food all over his face and crumbs in his facial hair, but he didn't care. No food had ever tasted so good. Then, John went for the next thing his body craved – to use the bathroom. He hadn't used a toilet in a long time – seclusion behind a bush or sometimes just behind a rock was all that John had been used to for the past while, so when he left the storage room and found the bathrooms, he felt human again.

As he was leaving the bathroom, he felt the ship accelerate – take off. John steadied himself as the ship was shaken as it rumbled its way out of the planet's atmosphere, and then continued on his way as he felt the ship level in the calmness that was space. He found his way towards the cafeteria – where a large surge of voices were wafting from the open doors. He was only going to take a look around, and ask someone where the sleeping quarters were.

He strode into the cafeteria, and expected everyone to stop and stare and have silence fall – but he only got a couple of glances or perhaps an odd look, but nothing more. The men and women who stopped to look at him stared at him for only a moment before going back to their conversations. They all looked weary – they were unshaven, dirty, had messy hair, with ripped clothes, pale, dull faces. That's when, John realized, compared to them, he blended in just as well.

John glanced around for Bayle, but didn't spot him.

"Hey, you," a voice was heard, and John looked around, and the voice continued, "Yeah, you, the tall guy." John looked down to a group of three sitting at the table. One woman, the others were men. The brown haired man sitting next to the woman was the one talking to him.

"Yes?" John asked, almost cautiously. He kept his voice low.

"You look lost," the man said, "Disoriented. Are you new?"

"Yes," John gave a curt nod of his head, "Picked up off that planet."

"Oh, I see, you're just like Alfred here then," the man gestured to a blonde haired man sitting across from him, and gave him a little smile. The man offered John his hand, "My name's Brody Matheson."

John numbly reached out to shake the man's hand, making sure not to squeeze too hard.

"John," he muttered.

"Quite a grip you've got there, John," Brody withdrew his hand, momentarily grimacing, "Sit down with us."

John said nothing, but took a seat beside the man named Alfred.

"This is my sister, Rachael," Brody gestured to the woman sitting next to him, "And, I already introduced Alfred."

John gave both of them a polite nod. Alfred, he noticed, looked jittery and nervous. His eyes were darting around a lot, and he looked like he was expecting an Elite to come running into the room at any moment. Rachael, however, looked tired, but friendly none the less.

"So, you're not the talkative type, are you?" Brody said, "Don't worry, we aren't aliens. I'm just trying to make some friends while we're on our way to Earth. Are you from Earth?"

"No," John said before he could think twice. Damn it.

"Oh, where are you from then?" Brody didn't miss a beat.

"Eridanus II," John replied slowly, cautiously, but he realized he had nothing to worry about. No one but Dr. Halsey and a few people knew where he was from. There could be no connections made.

"I see," Brody nodded.

"Wasn't that place glassed?" Rachael inquired.

"Yes," John said solemnly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she frowned.

"It's fine," he answered quickly.

"I'm sorry, but you really look like shit, man," Brody announced to him, "I'm not being rude, but what the hell happened to you?"

"Everything," John shrugged, "I was captured and tortured by the Covenant, my ship crashed… let's just say I've been to hell and back."

Brody, Rachael and even Alfred looked surprised, though poor Alfred looked more frightened than anything else.

"Wow," Brody looked amazed, "You must be tough."

"I guess," John shrugged again, not really liking the conversation. Brody, Rachael and Alfred weren't meaning any harm, but it was too soon for him to be bombarded with normal conversational questions. He cleared his throat, "I was just coming in here to ask, would you happen to know where the sleeping quarters are? Where I could get a bed?"

"This isn't a bed and breakfast," Brody looked at him wryly, "I wondered the same thing when they picked me and Rach up. You sleep wherever. There were a few rooms, but they have been long ago occupied."

"They won't make exceptions?" John questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I doubt it," Rachael answered, "We most commonly sleep in the cryo areas – you can go in the cryo tubes themselves if you want, but like, any floor space in there is fair game."

"That's good enough for me," John stood up, giving them a nod.

"Hey, wait," Brody objected, and John paused, "Did you happen to see any Spartans running around when you were on the planet? Master Chief, maybe?"

"What are Spartans?" John asked, making a face.

"The super soldiers, you know," Rachael explained, "You must have heard of Master Chief."

"Rumor has it that the other half of the _Forward Unto Dawn_ crashed on the same planet you and Alfred were on," Brody added, "We were hoping that they would rescue him."

"I never saw any Master Chief," John gave a weak shrug, "I doubt I would know what he looks like." He went to turn away, but hesitated. He raised an eyebrow, and decided to put the naïve icing on the cake, "Isn't he a robot, anyway?"

"Some say he is," Brody shrugged back, "Cause no one's seen his face, but I think there's a human under there."

"I don't," Rachael argued, "All that stuff that he did, he must be like half robot. There's no way he's simply human."

John walked away, leaving them arguing, and completely fooled. So far, so good.

**[June 23****rd****, 2553 – Los Angeles, California – USA - Earth]**

Since March, Renee had been tormented with the speculations of John's death. It was everywhere, in the newspapers, on TV and the Internet. The headlines went along the same lines, such as "The Last Spartan: MIA or KIA?", "Our Great Hero MIA?", or "Master Chief Dead?". It hurt Renee to the point where she no longer desired to go into the public, but extremely optimistic Amy forced her to do the exact opposite. She was truly a great friend, and almost every day she organized get-togethers, whether it be a drive, trip to the beach, or a coffee at the closest restaurant. When Troy finished school for the summer, he became the third partaker in these daily adventures, and Renee was thankful for his company. He always succeeded to make her laugh. With Amy and Troy's help, she was able to get her mind off the otherwise miserable thing that was called her life.

She and Amy would talk on the phone twice a day at least, and they would each discuss John being alive – Amy would literally force the idea into her head and get her to repeat "John is alive" over and over again until Renee was almost convinced, but however a certain magazine article or news blurb would get her upset all over again.

It was hard for her to wake up every day, and go to sleep at night – she was worried sick for John. If he wasn't dead, then where was he? Was he injured? Was he starving to death? John occupied her mind so much that eventually Amy decided it would be best to not talk about him to her.

It was even more difficult for Renee to act normal around her parents, who had no idea about her relationship with John and her grieving for him. To force a smile and pretend nothing was wrong was painful, but Renee had decided back in the hospital that she wouldn't tell them. The day she would consider telling them about him was the day he came home to her.

She often dreamed of that day, but the pleasant dream of opening her door to seeing John's handsome face always found its way to becoming a nightmare. Once, she had opened the door to a seemingly normal looking John, but he suddenly transformed into a walking corpse, with a giant hole in his chest and blood shot eyes – dead, but alive on her doorstep. This was a reoccurring dream, and in a way made Renee fear what she would see if John ever came home. The question in her head was always there. Would she see the John she had known? Or would she even recognize him?

That wasn't her primary worry though. Was John even alive, and if he was, would he come home?


	45. Ode To The Chief

**Chapter Forty Four**

**[July 7th 2553 – Kennedy Space Center, Florida, USA - Earth] **

The defreeze from cryo sleep was a quick, and relatively painless effort, but John was surprised to have it happen – it hardly felt like he had slept very long. Only a couple of days mingling amongst the other marine survivors had been more than enough for him, until he retreated into cryo. It was a different experience altogether, for waking up naked instead of being inside his MJOLNIR armor. When the cryo tube hatch opened, John felt instantly cold. He sat up, cold, frozen air billowing out around him. He looked around, and he realized someone hadn't unfrozen him manually – all the other cryo tubes were open or in the defreeze stage – which only happened when there was an emergency or… when the ship reached its destination.

On a table beside him – John was glad to see his folded clothes lying exactly where he had set them. He quickly snatched up his pair of boxers and pants – got out of the cryo tube and slipped them on – more than happy to quickly hide half of his pale, scarred body.

"John!" a voice called, and John whipped around to see Brody, Rachael and Alfred crossing the room towards them. John turned slightly, hoping that they could give him the information that he was currently missing.

"What happened?" he asked, eyeing their excited faces.

"We're finally here!" Brody exclaimed, "On Earth!"

"We've made it," Rachael continued, "We're in Florida, the Kennedy Space Center."

The name rang a bell in John's head. The Kennedy Space Center was created way back in the twentieth century, when humanity had just begun space exploration and its first ventures to the moon. It was an iconic place – a piece of history, but long since had been modified to suit the modern ways of space travel. Space ships, UNSC and alike, came and went every day – it was a huge and high tech facility, with over a hundred docks for the space ships.

So, he was on Earth, finally. He'd made it to the place he would now call home.

"Quickly, get your clothes on, let's go!" Brody said, and he reached forward to grab John's shirt and jacket off the table, but snatched them up in such a way, so Cortana's chip slid from John's jacket pocket. John didn't think twice as he saw the crystal chip slip from the breast pocket and plummet towards the floor. His hand snatched out in a blur – his true Spartan reflexes coming to light – and grabbed the chip inches before it hit the floor. He let out a gasp, his body suddenly full of adrenaline.

"Be careful!" John nearly shouted, raising to his full height, "You have no idea how important she… it… is…" He stopped immediately, watching their faces. Brody, Rachael and Alfred's expressions made John cringe. They had seen how fast he had snatched Cortana's chip out of the air, how he moved unbelievably fast, and undoubtedly heard his words.

"That's an AI crystal data chip," Alfred spoke – the first time John had heard him. His eyes were glued to John's closed fist that contained it, and then he looked up to John suspiciously.

"What are you doing with an AI?" Brody made a weird face, "If you're just a marine? Marines don't have AIs."

"And you grabbed that chip…" Rachael exclaimed, "I hardly seen you move. It was a blur."

"Master Chief had an AI, didn't he?" Brody asked her, "And those Spartans have fast reflexes…"

John didn't say anything, and watched as Rachael simply nodded. The three of them turned to look at him, their expressions bewildered and almost hurt.

"You're Master Chief." Brody said, sounding like he didn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. Rachael looked at him like he was an alien, but glanced up to John to await the conformation of Brody's accusation.

John forced himself to laugh – the first time in years, a laugh that sounded surprisingly convincing, ringing out heartily in the large room. He shook his head, as he pulled on his muscle shirt.

"What gave you that idea?" John asked, "I was given orders to return this AI safely to the ONI, after her original owner was killed. Do I look like Master Chief to you? Am I wearing armor?" he scoffed, as he brushed past them, shrugging on his jacket and tucking Cortana's chip safely back into his breast pocket, "Besides, Master Chief is dead."

"How do you know that?" Rachael persistently followed him along with her brother and Alfred, "You don't know that, no one does. He's MIA."

"Well I don't know, but it's a good guess. All I know is that I'm not Master Chief," John said, heading for the docking bay. The sooner he could get off this ship the better. Not that the three ex-marines were meaning any harm – they were simply wondering a fact that was now, very obvious. It was a sacrifice John had to make however, it wasn't like he was going to let Cortana's chip smash off the floor.

"You're leaving right away?" Brody got the hint, though he still persistently was following him.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" John retorted deeply, "I want the hell off this ship," he added last moment, "I want to see my family."

"You've got a family?" Rachael questioned.

"Yes, a wife," John said instantly, thinking of Renee, "And of course there are my parents, and her parents, and my friends. I've got a lot of friends." John was surprised how easily the lies just came out of him. He didn't have to think about them, they just poured out of his mouth before he really knew what he was doing. It felt odd to be claiming such things, a wife, a family – for he wasn't married and the latter was just a hazy memory. His real family - his parents, were probably long dead.

"Oh, well I guess you're not Master Chief then," she mused, "Master Chief is a loner, except for the Arbiter. But from what I've heard Arbiter's gone back to his home world. But who knows, it's all new now, like a brand new start. The war's over, we'll finally be able to live like normal human beings again, after all this time."

Brody caught up beside John, falling into step with him with some difficulty. He looked up at him,

"Are you sure you're wanting to go out there right now?" he looked weary, as he glanced towards the notification on the floor that said "Docking Bay", complete with a red arrow pointing directly ahead.

"Of course I am," John snapped, feeling irritated, "Why would I stall it out longer than necessary?"

Brody glanced back over his shoulder to his sister and Alfred, and John looked at the young man, feeling frustration run through him as he didn't answer. He was about to demand that he give him an answer, when they rounded the corner into the Docking Bay, and John's ears were filled with a roar that he hadn't heard in a long time – hundreds of human voices. He was almost instantly blinded by flashes of cameras and realized that many news reporters from over the world had found their way aboard the vessel – and were eagerly looking to interview the round up survivors.

"See what I mean?" Brody asked, and he stopped a few feet behind John, "I'm going to wait until it clears out, this is insanity. There are more of them outside, too – just waiting to swarm you."

John viewed this as another obstacle course, another mission. Though he was well aware that people were snapping pictures of him, taking videos, right now as he was standing there – he wanted off this ship, and to set his feet upon Earth's soil for the third time, a time he could relish without holding a weapon in hand and dressed in MJOLNIR armor – and he wasn't about to let this crazy crowd stop him.

He began descending down the stairs towards the ramps that led directly from the space ship to the boarding gates, and into the space center. From behind him, he heard Rachael mutter something about him being crazy, but Brody called, speaking for them all, "Nice to have met you, John."

John didn't turn around, he just kept walking. He reached the bottom of the stairs, and the numerous reporters and camera men swarmed around him. He heard shouts in languages he didn't even come close to comprehending, and more understandable common languages such as French, Spanish, German, and of course his native tongue of English. Questions, dozens of questions being asked of him.

"What's your name?"

"Where were you picked up?"

"What rank are you? Are you an ODST?"

"Did you know Sergeant Avery Johnson?"

"How long have you been serving in the war?"

"Did you ever meet the Master Chief?"

"Is the Master Chief alive?"

Ah, John knew the questions about him would start to arise. He said nothing, though, kept his face the emotionless feature that he had grown so accustomed to wearing – he even allowed his expression to alter ever so slightly to one of anger and annoyance. With whomever he made eye contact, John made sure he gave them a cold stare – and soon, people made way for him. They stepped aside, intimidated by his size and appearance. An occasional question was asked, but not many. The cameras still flashed and the film still rolled – but, a strange silence fell over the crowd – as they all stopped to watch him. John, as he proceeded in silence towards the gate entering the space center, began to wonder, ever so slightly – what was the reason for their silence? Was it just his general effect on people coming through, or maybe, was it obvious as to who he was?

He tried to place himself in their shoes and what they were currently seeing. A pale, scarred man of 6'10", muscular, huge, and no signs that he was a war hero. Instead of being properly groomed and clean, he was unshaven, with unkempt hair, sunken in eyes, wearing mix and matched clothes that didn't even fit him properly. A man, who, unbeknownst to them, was possibly the most accomplished war hero in all of history, a man who was the Master Chief himself.

John knew that some men would boast their titles and be proud of what they were, and answer the questions, do interviews, and bathe in the limelight, but John wanted nothing of the sorts. He just wanted to see Renee, retreat to a civilian life.

He crossed the gate into the space center, where a new swarm of paparazzi were waiting. However, John hardly paid them any attention when a familiar man caught his eye. Mostly bald, aged features, and dressed in a white dress uniform decorated with numerous medals, unmistakably was Lord Hood himself. He was several feet ahead of him, and was observing the survivors. John didn't think twice, Lord Hood was the one man he could confide in. He rushed forward, and yelled:

"Lord Hood sir!" he went to approach him, but two burly men stopped John – or at least tried to.

Lord Hood turned, and John watched his expression alter into one of confusion as he took him in. He wouldn't know who he was, John realized.

John struggled with the two men, not wanting to throw them off – though he was more than capable. He was still John Bale, a simple marine who had mental trauma from the war. Weak, famished, non-Spartan John Bale.

"Where do you think you're going, sir?" one of the men said.

"Who are you! Lord Hood isn't accepting any interviews!" the other man told him plainly, angrily. They both gave John a shove backwards, and John felt his anger fly.

"I'm not a damn reporter!" John snarled, glancing past the two men towards Lord Hood, who was watching from a distance, "I need to speak with him…"

"Yeah, sure you do," the first man rolled his eyes, "Get back before we decide to arrest you for disturbing the peace."

"No, you don't understand!" John used his force, and shoved the men back defensively; their hands on him made him want to break their arms. The commotion caused the paparazzi to swarm in towards them like a horde of bees. As they closed in around, John felt his anger soaring, he could kill these two men, he could…

"Stop this!" a familiar voice said, and John saw it was Lord Hood. He was calmly striding over to them, and his two body guards backed off John, though they looked fired up and ready to get him in trouble. Lord Hood glanced to them with an assuring gaze, and then stopped in front of John, looking up into his eyes.

John struck a crisp salute.

"Lord Hood, sir!" he barked.

"Do I know you, soldier?" Lord Hood questioned curiously.

John slowly lowered his hand, and decided to ignore the question, for he was well aware of the listening reporters that were around them. He leaned in slightly, where he whispered ever so lowly:

"I am carrying the Artificial Intelligence Cortana, and you are the responsible individual that I desire to trust her to, sir."

Lord Hood looked at him in silence – his expression unchanging except for the slight raise of a white eyebrow.

"Don't believe me, sir, she's in my breast pocket of my jacket," John continued to whisper – and he could hear the discontented murmurs of the reporters as they were unable to hear a word. He reached up to touch the chip through the fabric, "Trust me."

Lord Hood nodded slightly, glancing down to the indicated pocket, and then gestured to John, then his two body guards.

"Come with me," was all he said.

* * *

It was a quick walk through the Kennedy Space Center, and John followed Lord Hood in silence, glancing around at the historical place without moving his head. Lord Hood's two body guards or whatever they wanted to call themselves didn't appear to trust or approve of Lord Hood's actions. As they walked alongside him they occasionally glanced back to John suspiciously – but no one said a word. It wasn't until they reached Lord Hood's limousine, and the doors were closed behind them and the tinted windows blocked the view from the outside world that Lord Hood decided to speak. He glanced to John, whose head was almost hitting the roof of the car. John sat straight and proper, and focused directly ahead, waiting to be spoken to.

"You say you have Cortana?" Lord Hood said, sounding almost like he didn't believe the fact.

"Yes, sir," John answered, and he quickly reached up to his breast pocket, where he withdrew the glowing crystal data chip, and held it out to Lord Hood in silence.

"Drive," Lord Hood snapped to his two henchmen, which hadn't yet started the vehicle. He then looked down to the chip in John's large hand. He hesitated, but took the chip from his hand, then looked up to John's eyes in disbelief, which at the moment, were nothing but earnest.

"Master Chief," he said after a long beat, "John-117."

"Sir," John gave a slight nod of his head.

"My God," Lord Hood breathed, "You're alive."

"Yes, sir," he nodded again.

"Where's your armor?" Lord Hood questioned. John could tell that his head was swarming with questions, but he was only able to ask this one at a time. John decided to make it easier for him and try his best to explain everything.

"On the frigate," John replied, "Sir, permission to explain myself."

"Please do," Lord Hood answered, glancing down to Cortana's chip then up to him again.

"Everything I am doing is not without good reason, sir," John began, "Though some may think that I would desire the fame and label of being the hero, but I want nothing, sir – but to pursue a normal life." He met Lord Hood's eyes to assess the expression, but his features were indifferent, so he continued, "You see I have the perfect chance at anonymity, sir, since no one knows the face of the Master Chief."

Lord Hood nodded slowly.

"You may be wondering what chance do I have at leading a normal life, but I assure you one exists. My ticket to a normal life is in Los Angeles, sir. Eighteen years ago, I met a female marine by the name of Renee Kilburn. I… loved her, sir. However, when she was critically wounded during the Battle of Hydra – and after falling into a coma, was transported to Earth. I don't even know if she's awake, to be honest sir, I don't even know if she's alive – but that's where I belong, sir. With her. Now that the war is finally over, I've got my chance. I want to trust you with keeping Cortana safe, and my survival a secret. To the world, Master Chief is to remain MIA – but I will live amongst humanity as John Bale, sir. That's all I want."

Lord Hood nodded again, and slowly, he smiled.

"I will make sure Cortana is in good hands," he answered, "And I will help you in any way I can. I will get you on the next flight to Los Angeles; I will get you anything you need. You deserve nothing less, 117."

For the first time in a long time, John truly smiled.

"Thank you, sir," he replied.

**[UNSC Naval Military Base & Office of Naval Intelligence – Florida Branch]**

John stood in front of a full length mirror, examining his appearance. He was dressed in a cleanly pressed dress uniform, complete with his rank and adorned with the numerous medals. He was clean shaven, and his hair freshly cut to military length. The man looking back at him, at a glance, wasn't that bad looking – but was ghostly pale and if one looked closely, they could see the pink scars on his face and neck, and the large, visible scar beneath his eye – the oldest of them all. His eyes weren't as sunken in – but were as black as ever. His face was thinner, his cheekbones more pronounced, but not thin enough to appear malnourished. He looked… suitable enough for this situation.

It still felt all so strange, not to be in his armor, not to be wielding a gun, not to be shooting Covenant. John believed that it would be a while before he fully accepted that the war was finally over, and that his job was done – or soon to be.

Approving himself, John left the small room, and walked briskly down the hallway. He passed a couple of personnel who saluted him politely or nodded a hello. He turned the corner, and came to the end of the far hallway, where a set of doors were. Carefully, he stood back far enough as to not set off the motion trackers to automatically open them – he needed a moment's pause. This was it. Beyond those doors was the auditorium. He was to walk in and resign from the UNSC for good, hand in his ranks. Then, he would be free from the military life, and have the chance to go pursue the life with Renee he'd long since dreamed of. There had been a time where the dream had been exactly that, after she had been discharged, John lost all hopes and fell into a depressed stupor – and his feelings for her eventually dwindled away until he couldn't even remember her face – and all general emotions became introverted to the point where he forgot to smile. Those days weren't long ago – John could remember the constant fighting he'd done – and the whole events with Halo and the Covenant. Those memories were the vivid ones, not the ones with Renee. He had felt guilty to tell Lord Hood in his car that he loved Renee, when, he couldn't even remember the sound of her voice. He thought he loved her still – it must exist somewhere, but the face that had looked back at him in the mirror hardly looked like the face of a man who had once loved, once laughed, once swore to defend one female marine's life with his own. The face was a scarred, serious, macabre part to an equally battle-hardened and defaced body. He had loved, once – but he wondered truly if he could allow himself to open up so much again?

John decided, he would feel love, feel emotions again when he saw Renee, alive and breathing. Not until. There was no point in making the difficult crawl from his reclusive shell only to get to Los Angeles to still find her in a hopeless unresponsive coma or to find her not in a hospital at all, but six feet in the ground with a gravestone marking where her body lay. The thought of going there and learning that Renee was dead was a horrible thought, but John realized there was a chance – however small or not it may be, he must be prepared as possible to expect the generally unexpected. If Renee was dead, the idea of putting a gun to his head sounded momentarily satisfying – not even Spartans could live from a bullet to the brain – but John quickly shoved the thought aside, shivering slightly. He'd never put much thought to his own death – he'd become too accustomed to expecting death to come rushing up to meet him around the next corner.

He took a deep breath, gazing at the closed doors. Then, he took a couple of steps forward – activating the automatic censor, and the doors slid open, and he walked into the auditorium. The seats were partially filled - with men and women of the UNSC – all of which had sworn an oath to the classification of this event. Upon seeing him, they began to applaud. John looked past them to the stage, where Lord Hood stood in front of the podium, and beside him, on a holographic panel, was Cortana. She had her arms folded on her chest and a small smile on her lips – both her and Lord Hood watching his approach as John strode to the center of the room, turned on his heel, saluted Lord Hood, and stood at rigid attention. Lord Hood held up his hand to signal the halting of the applause – and silence fell across the room. John willed himself to stand even straighter, raising his chin higher, maintaining his poker faced expression, although he allowed small signs of pride to shine through. He took a deep breath. This was it.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117," Lord Hood declared, "After thirty-six years of service to the United Nations Space Command, and fighting in the Human-Covenant War, we are proud to call you one of our own, but at the same time we are also saddened that you are finally taking your leave. You have completed rigorous training, underwent deadly augmentations, fought in battles too numerous to mention, and most recognizably, helped put an end to this war. You are a brave soldier, you put the fate of humanity ahead of your own life and without a doubt, we all are eternally indebted to you. You saved the lives of millions, and ultimately, Earth herself. Despite that you carry the title of the most decorated and most accomplished heroes in history, you hardly acknowledge it. While most men would be drowning in the media and their own accomplishments, you don't even like to look in the mirror."

This roused a few chuckles, and John even allowed himself to smile slightly.

"When you returned to Earth and presented Cortana to me, you weren't looking for rewards, you weren't looking for fame. You simply asked me for one thing – a normal life. And I am proud to be able to now grant you that wish. Your rank please."

John quickly removed his rank of Master Chief from the black backdrop of his uniform, stepped up to the podium, and placed it into Lord Hood's palm, then saluted him. Lord Hood returned the salute honorably.

"We will miss you, John," Cortana remarked from her panel, and for the first time, she gave John a salute. John smiled.

The applause started again, and John turned to face the crowd, standing straight and proud. He saluted them all, the applause getting louder as everyone got to their feet. Although John hated the attention, he knew deep down somewhere, after all this time, he deserved it.

It was finally done, his war was finally over.

* * *

With the help of Lord Hood, John was able to become an official citizen of Earth and of the United States, receive a passport and access his bank account – all under the name of John Bale. Overwhelmed with these new things, John finally began to realize that he was heading into a new part of his life, where there would be no fighting, no Covenant, no violence, no daily threats towards his life.

Thirty six years of employment in the UNSC had gotten him something. When John first checked his bank account, he was overwhelmed by the amount of money he had to his name. Although money had never been worth anything to him – it was something rather trivial - John quickly figured out that in civilian life that it was what made their world go round.

Lord Hood allowed John to stay in the Military Base until he had all the things he needed. John ventured out bravely into Miami with a scratchily written list of things he needed to do. He had already purchased his plane ticket to Los Angeles earlier in the morning over the phone – a new experience in itself, and now John found himself walking amongst the crowds on the streets of Miami with nothing but a wad of money in his back pocket and a crumpled shopping list. His list didn't consist of much – he just needed to get a couple changes of clothes, a wallet, personal hygiene items, a suitcase, and a laptop computer so that he could keep in contact with Lord Hood and Cortana. Cortana had been the one to insist that he buy that item, although John thought it almost as trivial as the money itself.

As John walked down the streets and found his way to a super store, (where the sign claimed you could find everything you need), he found he received a lot of double takes from people – and he guessed that it was his size. No one he came across was even close to being his height – or his bulk. At the base, John spent a lot of the time in the weight room, he wasn't about to let his muscles deteriorate. Although he didn't really need them anymore, John would think it weird if he lost weight. He continued to maintain his physique – Master Chief or no.

Although the citizens of Miami might be looking at him for other reasons, John found it hard to believe so. His poker face he was trying his best to keep not as strong. If he made eye contact with people, no matter whom they were, John gave them a little nod or perhaps a little smile. Some of them smiled back, but others just pretended like they didn't see it. Human behavior was something John still didn't quite understand.

He entered the super store and found everything he needed besides the laptop computer. He contemplated asking about where he could find the closet store selling one, but John decided he would buy one in Los Angeles. He was to head to Miami airport the following morning to catch the flight to Los Angeles; a laptop was something he didn't really need.

Carrying the items in his arms, which normally would be too much of a load for anyone, John made his way to the checkout area. The girl who rung through his items was short and small, with blonde hair and big earnest eyes. She was soft spoken and polite, but seemed a little bit intimidated by John's size, seeming a bit shy towards him. She scanned most of the items without difficulty, but had a little trouble lifting the suitcase. John obliged to help her.

"Let me get that for you," John said, picking up the suitcase with no effort, and swiping it across the scanning system. It beeped successfully.

"Thank you." The girl said, laughter in her voice.

"Don't mention it, ma'am," John said, and quickly pulled out his wad of money. He handed her the bills quickly, "Keep the change, I don't need it." He added, as he threw all his items into the suitcase, then zippering it closed, he picked it up. He met the girl's confused expression.

"But, you, have twenty two dollars due back," she raised her eyebrow, "You _don't_ need it?"

"Money's trivial," John shrugged, "Got more where that came from."

"Okay," the girl answered awkwardly, "Have a nice day, sir."

"You too, ma'am," John gave her a big smile, and left the store carrying his suitcase. He decided to jog back to the military base, which was a good four miles away. Though he got more odd looks this time jogging down the street carrying a suitcase, John got there in record time – the jog refreshing him. When he arrived back to the military base, he went to his room, where he threw the suitcase upon the bed, and he opened it to double check he had everything. He had purchased a couple of t-shirts, two muscle shirts, a jacket, a pair of shorts, pair of capris, cargo pants, a pair of jeans, boxers and socks, as well as a pair of sneakers. His personal hygiene items were simply a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo and soap. It was all he needed.

* * *

John awoke the next morning at 4:30 - where he took a quick shower, got dressed in his cargo pants and a white t-shirt, and then headed to Lord Hood's office, where he was there along with Cortana on the holographic panel. When he said he would keep good care of her, John realized that he meant every word. He entered, and Cortana greeted him before Lord Hood was even able to look up from his desk.

"Hello, John," Cortana gave him a big smile, "I almost said Chief, but I guess that really wouldn't apply."

"Cortana," John gave her a little nod, and then he looked to Lord Hood, "Lord Hood, sir."

"What brings you here John? Shouldn't you be headed to the airport soon? I have a car waiting to escort you," Lord Hood sat up straight in his chair, and it even sounded odd for him to call John by his actual name.

"I'm well aware of the time, sir," John replied, "I was just wondering if you could permit me quick access to the ONI."

"Why would you want in there?" Lord Hood simply asked, neither denying nor approving the question.

"I would like to view Renee's profile, I assume they'd still have it," John answered, "I know she's in Los Angeles but it's a big city. I'm hoping that they would…" he trailed off when Cortana interrupted:

"Already there, John," She smiled helpfully, "This Renee you're looking for, although her file was last updated in May of 2535 – it states her residence on 5362 Wilshire Avenue, Brentwood County. Write that down for him, Terrence." Cortana looked to Lord Hood, who grabbed a piece of paper to scribble it down.

"Thank you, Cortana," John told her, taking the paper from Lord Hood and folding it into a small square before putting it into his pocket.

"You never told me about this girl," Cortana said, "I've just read over her entire file – couldn't help myself. Is this what you meant when you told me there's a lot I don't know about you?"

"More or less," John shrugged, "The fact I knew her had nothing to do with what I was doing – besides, I forced myself not to think about her. Only made me more willing to feel emotions." John paused, surprised about how freely the words came from his mouth in front of Lord Hood and Cortana. Normally he wouldn't speak so much in depth about Renee except for around Dr. Halsey and Amy. But, Dr. Halsey – he had no idea where she was. There were rumors around that she was trapped in a shield world, but there were also more valid expectations for her to be dead. And as for Amy, she would probably be close enough to a stranger to John now, he hadn't spoken to her since 2535, although had received that message from her ten years afterwards on Renee's non-improving condition.

"Well, I'm just an AI," Cortana told him, "I can't offer much advice, but whatever you're going after, you know I'll support you all the way John. I think you will have good luck, as you usually do. No shortage of that, right Terrence?"

"Right, Cortana," Lord Hood agreed.

"Well, I've gotten what I've come for," John announced, "You made it quicker Cortana. I should be going, don't want to keep that car waiting any more than necessary."

"Did you buy that laptop?" Cortana demanded.

"No, but I will once I arrive in Los Angeles, I promise," John told her, "You know me, when I make a promise…"

"You keep it," Cortana let out a little chuckle, "Isn't that an old phrase."

"Good luck John," Lord Hood gave him a little salute. John returned it instantly.

"Thank you, sir," John replied, "It's been an honor working with you – and you, Cortana."

Cortana smiled, giving him a little wave.

"You know I'll miss you, keep in touch," she ordered.

"Will do," John nodded. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned and left the office, not looking back. He was now on his way to Los Angeles – everything else was behind him now. Finally, after all this time, John would be able to get a chance at a new life with the woman he loved.


	46. The Final Footsteps

**Chapter Forty-Five**

**[July 17****th****, 2553 – Los Angeles, California – USA]**

John felt an overwhelming surge of excitement as he looked out the window of the plane to see the ground, still thousands of feet below them – but he could see buildings, tall skyscrapers, rows and rows of symmetrical homes, and far ahead, the white sand beaches and the Pacific Ocean stretching out ahead of him. He was sitting in first class, for the seats in coach were too small and there wasn't nearly enough leg room. Even then the large seats were a bit snug for him. He was chewing busily on a piece of gum, to help with his ears popping. No one was sitting beside him, so he set his carry on item – which was actually his suitcase, on the seat next to him. The man across the aisle, a young entrepreneur by the looks of things, occasionally had struck up a conversation with John. He seemed nice enough, and didn't appear to be at all intimidated by John's appearance. When he had told him that he had been in the war, the man nodded understandingly and went back to his laptop.

When the pilot's voice came over the loud speakers, stating that they would be arriving in Los Angeles airport in the next few minutes, John felt his stomach flip. He chewed on his gum profusely, feeling his ears beginning to plug, and gazed out the window again. Somewhere, amongst that large city, was the girl he loved. Or so he hoped. His next challenge was to find where 5362 Wilshire avenue was – it was in Brentwood County, he knew that much. If he could find Brentwood, the rest wouldn't be much of a problem. If he had to walk down every road in Brentwood to find her, so be it.

No matter how positive he tried to be, the what if's still plagued his mind – now that he was close to reaching his destination, they began to really come to him in a pessimistic manner so macabre that John almost felt sick.

What would he do if he arrived at Renee's residence to only learn that she still was in the coma? Or that she was dead? The thoughts frightened him, and momentarily he imagined himself not being welcomed into Renee's home, but instead shown the way to the nearest cemetery. He fiercely pushed the idea out of his head and forced himself to think positively, although the negative thoughts were still swirling around, eager to pronounce that their foreshadows could be just as possible as those of the positive side. John chewed even more ferociously on his gum, noticeably smacking it. He would arrive in Brentwood, and find her alive and well – and she would be waiting for him. But he wondered what to expect from her, what to expect of her reaction.

That's when he remembered, with a sickening churn of his stomach – to the world, Master Chief was MIA, good as dead.

Renee would think he was _dead_.

March, April, May, June, July… almost six months Master Chief had been gone from the world. John felt the little color in his cheeks drain from his face. He was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. Long ago, in March, Renee had received the news that he was MIA along with the rest of the world. It sickened him to imagine how she must have felt, how much she must've cried for him – and unbeknownst to her, that he was still alive and all her tears were trivial. But how was she supposed to know otherwise?

And, thinking him dead, would Renee have moved on with her life? Would she have fallen in love with another man?

He must've been looking really horrible, for he jumped when a stewardess suddenly addressed him.

"Sir?" she questioned, and John's head snapped up to meet her eyes. She was looking at him with concern, "You look pale. Are you going to be sick?"

"No," John said after a long beat, raising his hand to his forehead only to feel it was cold with sweat. He ran his fingers through his hair, and looked to the trolley of drinks and snacks the stewardess was wheeling down the aisle, "If I could have some water though…"

"Of course," the stewardess quickly poured him a glass and handed it to him. She watched him drink it, "Is this your first time flying? Sometimes it can make people feel a little anxious."

"Yeah," John nodded, and he handed her the empty plastic cup, "I'm sure that's what it is. I feel better now, thank you, ma'am."

"Glad to be a help," she gave him a little smile, and continued off down the aisle.

John let out a deep sigh, and leaned back against the seat. He reached over and pulled down the shutter over the window with a loud crack.

* * *

Renee opened her eyes, squinting as the sunlight filled her vision. It was happily pouring in through her bedroom window, across her bed – making it look lively and vivid. She forced herself to roll onto her side, where she saw another summer day was already well in progress. She could see the emerald green grass and the flowers in her lawn, the few trees leaving patches of shade, and the pale white sidewalk contrasting with the black pavement – and of course the blue sky filled with clouds. Another day – but it just wasn't any other day. The date, July 17th, rang a bell in her mind.

It was her birthday, she was turning thirty seven. Oh joy.

Remembering this made Renee want to pull the blankets up over head, roll away and go back to sleep for the remainder of the day. She was another year older. The majority of her youth had been wasted away in a deep sleep.

But she had to get up, as much as she wanted to lounge around in her pajamas and not acknowledge that today was her supposed special day, she knew that Amy, Wayne and Troy would be coming to visit and force her to celebrate something that didn't deserve a celebration.

She took a deep breath, then threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. Numbly, she grabbed clean clothes from her closet – a pair of ripped and faded jeans and a plain black tank top, and shuffled her way to the adjoining bathroom. Tossing her clothes on the closed hamper, she turned on the shower, and lazily got out of her pajamas. She paused, in her bra and underwear, to look at herself in the full length mirror. The scars were visible across her stomach, pale white and permanent. She was just beginning now to fully accept that they weren't going anywhere.

Sighing, Renee leaned in closer to the mirror to look at her face to see if she obtained any wrinkles. There didn't appear to be any, but the face looking back at her was dull and plain. She stuck her tongue out at herself.

"Happy Birthday, you old bag," she muttered, turning away finally and getting into the shower. She made it quick, though the hot water felt especially refreshing. She got dressed, and rung out her hair to let it air dry and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where she turned on the coffee machine. She had hated coffee once, but over the past few months, found it tasted rather good and forced her awake.

Renee walked over to the kitchen counter, where she began to sort through a disassembled newspaper – something that had been used to entertain Troy the other day – until she found the page she was looking for. Several pictures and the article pertaining to the latest UNSC frigate that had returned with a batch of survivors. Her eyes were drawn to one particular picture of a disheveled man, with scruffy hair and traces of a beard – but the picture was slightly out of focus.

Amy had brought it to show her a couple of days ago, pointing out that the man, in a way looked like John, but Renee didn't believe it – although she acted like she believed John was alive, she had just about given up. He would've been here by now if he was alive, and he wasn't here. The media was beginning to accept it as well; the talk of Master Chief was slowly dwindling. The world was accepting his death. So would she. The picture she had of John, Troy, Amy and herself no longer had its place on the mantel in the living room. Instead, Renee had removed it and put it in her empty bottom drawer of her dresser – along with the diamond necklace John had given her. Having items associated with John visible would make it only harder to accept his death – it would keep her dwelling, so Renee decided to put them away. She still loved him with all her heart, and although she was disconnecting herself from him, she would never forget him. Amy noticed, but she didn't say anything or try and persuade her otherwise. Although Amy was still trying her best to be optimistic, Renee could see that too, her hopes for John were dying. It had almost been six months since they first heard the speculated news of his death – and nothing arose to give them the belief that he was alive.

Renee squinted at the picture in the newspaper, trying to make out the blurred face, but she couldn't. This man wasn't John. John was long dead. She gathered up all the newspaper pages and crumpled them up – and carried them to the nearest recycle bin, tossing them in with an exasperated sigh, fighting back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. She couldn't cry. Not on her birthday – although she saw it almost impossible, she would try her best and enjoy it, put on a smile, even if it was nothing but a façade.

Amy had been the one to not let her forget her birthday was coming. She started about three weeks ago, and brought it up every day without fail, exclaiming that she would be here with Troy and Wayne and they would have lots of fun together. Renee wished that Amy wouldn't bother – as she told her many times – but Amy couldn't be swayed. Amy's own birthday, which was in October, was always a big deal, and she was going to see to it that Renee's would be an equally important event.

Renee was just putting the sugar in her coffee when a knock sounded at her door. She jumped, almost splashing her coffee all over herself. It only sloshed over the rim and onto the counter, but Renee cursed and jumped backwards, waving her hand as her fingers were successfully burned. Amy couldn't be here already! Sticking her burnt finger into her mouth, Renee glared up at the clock, which declared that it was only 10:30. She paused – knowing that if it was indeed Amy, she would just let herself in.

Sure enough, she heard the door opening and Amy's voice yelling:

"Where are you, birthday girl?"

A couple of seconds later, Amy's head of red hair poked around the corner, and she grinned at Renee, who was wiping up the spilled coffee.

"You're here awfully early," Renee said, making a face, but she dropped the paper towel to meet Amy halfway and to accept the bear hug she was offering.

"Happy Birthday!" Amy grinned, leaning back, "You don't look a year past twenty," and although Renee made a face, she continued, "I'm here before everyone else. Wayne and Troy are coming by later. I figured I could help you get ready."

"I really don't want to have a party," Renee assured her, stepping back from the hug, "I mean it. I'd just prefer to chill out."  
"And mope?" Amy added, "I know you're still grieving over John's supposed death. Did you look closely at the newspaper?"

"That's not him, Amy," Renee said softly, "He's dead, okay? And I'm accepting it. And no, I don't decide to mope, I'm trying my best to move on, though I haven't a clue how I'll manage."

"You negative bastard you," Amy frowned, "Well at least you can try and feel good today, and look good. It's your birthday. You haven't even any make up on – and you air dry your hair? You want to be a frizz-head like me? And _please _don't tell me this is what you're wearing."

She gestured down to Renee's jeans and tank top. Renee nodded, not at all ashamed.

"It's not a bloody prom, it's my birthday," she shrugged.

"You had these jeans since high school!" Amy shook her head, "They're falling apart! Although I'm envious of your scrawny ass, I wish I could fit into my jeans from high school." Ever since giving birth to her son, Amy had put on some weight that she hadn't been able to easily lose, "But still, Renee. You look horrible."

"They always were my favorite," Renee shrugged it off again, "I can pretend I'm nineteen again, right?"

Amy just pursed her lips and continued on her critique, gesturing disgustedly at Renee's top half:

"And this tank top is boring, doesn't show off your boobs, you look practically flat-chested. Not to mention the color, black! I'm not dumb, it's the color of mourning," Amy put her hands on her hips, "You're lucky I'm here to help you. I brought this, just in case I'd run into this situation. Your first present." Amy thrust a rather large blue bag overflowing with tissue paper into Renee's hands, giving her an earnest smile.

"Amy, you didn't need to…" Renee began, setting the present on the table.

"Shut up and open it," Amy ordered.

Renee let out a little laugh, but plucked the layers of tissue paper from the bag, tossing one at Amy, "You're crazy at wrapping things," she remarked, but pulled out the present – a summery dress, with a halter neck. It was black, pink and white – the three colors swirled and twisted and waved into a beautiful pattern. Renee smiled, admiring it.

"Thank you, Amy," she breathed, "It's so beautiful."

"Don't mention it," Amy grinned, "But you're wearing it. Put those jeans and that tank top deep into your closet and don't ever look at them again! I can't wait to see it on you. I saw it a while ago, was interested in it myself but they only had small sizes, so, if I couldn't wear it, I figured you should."

Renee smiled, defeated. She thanked her and hugged her again.

"Come with me?" she asked, and Amy eagerly followed her upstairs, where she waited outside Renee's bedroom while she quickly changed. When Renee opened the door, Amy couldn't help but gush.

"You look so pretty!" Amy exclaimed, "Way to go, see, that's what you should be wearing. It fits you perfectly!"

Renee smiled sheepishly and glanced down at herself.

"Do you feel pretty?" Amy asked.

"I guess," Renee shrugged with a little smile.

"You should feel sexy," Amy assured her, "It's your birthday, and you look great. If John could see you…"

"No," Renee interrupted almost instantly, and she bit her lip, "Please, Amy."  
"I'm sorry," Amy apologized, changing the subject, "I can do your make up, and your hair. Will you let me?" She beamed.

"Why not," Renee shrugged.

To sit in front of her dresser and to allow Amy to fuss over her like a child would her doll was something that took Renee way back to her childhood. Renee and Amy when they were little, both loved to take turns doing each other's hair and make-up, sometimes using their mothers' lipstick and creating crazy hairstyles that usually had to be painfully unknotted at the end of the day.

Amy blow-dried Renee's hair and gently waved it with a hair straightener. As for the make-up, she applied enough to not make Renee look overdone, but not to make her look old either. Eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow and a hint of blush completed her efforts.

"Reminds me of when we were young, eh?" Amy asked as she was perfecting the blush on Renee's cheeks.

"Yeah, I was thinking about that," Renee grinned, "Do you remember that time I accidentally knotted your hair so bad that you had to get it cut?"

"Mhm," Amy nodded with a laugh, "I was so angry at you for a while." She threw the brush back onto the dresser and stepped aside to let Renee see herself in the mirror, "What do you think?"

Renee nodded.

"I don't look that bad," she smiled a little, "What do _you _think?"

"You look actually healthy," Amy folded her arms on her chest, "And pretty. Though, I know one thing that would really match with that dress." She was silent, meeting Renee's eyes, raising her eyebrow ever so slightly.

Renee immediately knew what she was talking about. The pink diamond necklace – the thought of it made a lump come to her throat. Could she wear the necklace? Could she even allow Amy to take it from the drawer?

"Will you wear it?" Amy asked softly.

Renee bit her lip, but nodded ever so slightly.

"Bottom drawer," she replied quietly.

Amy kneeled down and opened the drawer, and got out the necklace, and put it around Renee's neck. Renee let out a heavy sigh, and looked at the two intertwined diamond hearts – they seemed pinker than she remembered. She closed her eyes, and a brief memory came back to her.

_"I have something for you." John told her softly, "Hold out your hand."  
She did, her smile growing bigger._

"_What is it?" she questioned._

"_Close your eyes."  
She did without question, letting out a little giggle, her smile getting impossibly larger. John reached forward and gently removed her glove, and tossed it onto the bench. Holding her hand with his free one, he gently placed the necklace into her palm._

"_Open."_

_She opened her eyes, looked down to her hand, and she gasped at the sight of his gift._

"_John!" she exclaimed, looking up to him in bewilderment, back to the necklace, then up to him again, her mouth agape, "It's… beautiful."_

"_I found it in the jewelry store," John said, clearing his throat, "The two hearts, they mean eternal love."_

Eternal love – a love that lasts forever. Renee had to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, and she reached up to clutch the necklace tightly, looking away from the mirror, down onto her lap. The tears were threatening to form, but she couldn't cry. It would mess up her makeup.

* * *

John found himself standing on the sidewalk in front of the address written on the piece of paper. He looked down to the paper, then up to the civic number on the lawn. It was right, and this street was Wilshire Avenue – another look back to the street sign confirmed that. He took a deep breath, taking in the one story bungalow. The grass was quite long, two large trees were in the front lawn, a car in the garage.

This was it – the turning point, the time where he'd find out everything.

He willed himself to talk down the path, up to the front doorstep, and ring the doorbell. His hand was uncontrollably shaking, but John quickly clenched it into a fist. In his other hand, he held his suitcase. He heard distant noises from inside the house, moving around – footsteps, and finally a voice. A voice, he realized, he didn't recognize. A couple of seconds passed, and the door opened, and instead of seeing Renee, he looked down into the face of a woman who must have been in her late fifties, perhaps even her sixties. She had graying brown hair, blue eyes, but John saw a faint resemblance – her face was kind of familiar.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, straightening, although she didn't even come to John's shoulder. John watched her expressions, and wasn't surprised to see that she was sizing him up with the same curious looks he usually received. Like he did everyone else, he tried to put himself in this woman's shoes – to open the door to see a towering stranger with a pale face covered in scars, deep set eyes that still, portrayed little or no emotion.

"Yes ma'am, perhaps you could help me," John cleared his throat, "Is Renee Kilburn here? I know this was once her place of residence…"

"Not anymore," the woman replied slowly, "But I'm her mother, Harriet. How do you know my daughter?"

"I'm sorry for not introducing myself, ma'am," John said, "My name is John Bale. I fought in the war alongside Renee in 2535. I've just returned to Earth – and I'm looking for her, I wish to speak with her, ma'am."

"My Renee never mentioned a John Bale," Harriet made a face, but let out a little sigh, "But I suppose there's a lot I don't know about her. She only woke up from her coma a short time ago. Her father and I suspect there's a lot she hasn't shared about the war and all she's been through…"

"I suspect as well, ma'am," John felt relief sweep through him. So Renee was awake, and alive, "I know from my personal experiences out in the field that there are things I don't like to even remember, let alone talk about. Renee is a very lucky girl to have survived her wounds from the battle of Hydra."

"You were present?" Harriet asked, putting a hand to her heart, "Were you there when she was shot?"

"Yes ma'am," John bowed his head, "That is one of the memories I prefer not to look back on."

"You must have known Troy Fisher?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered again, "A very noble Lieutenant until the end."

"Renee has noticeably been in mourning since she has awoken from her coma," Harriet said, "Although I know some of it must be for Troy – I feel there's someone else she may be mourning." She let out a little scoff, "I used to know Renee so well – I told her not to go join that war, but she did. Followed in Troy's footsteps, just like she did all throughout childhood – both her and Amy. Now, when I look into Renee's eyes I feel there is so much of her that I don't know. Sometimes it's like she's not my daughter, but a stranger. I can only imagine what she must have seen and experienced during those years. Ever since she's woken up from her coma, she's very drawn in towards herself – refuses to get even a job."

"I do believe, from now on, ma'am," John raised to put his hand on Harriet's shoulder, "That you will see Renee's happiness. That's a promise I can make to you."

"How do you mean?" Harriet raised her eyebrow.

"I don't know, ma'am," John said, "But I can feel it."

"Are you her good friend?" Harriet questioned.

"Yes, ma'am." John willed himself to smile, "I know Renee well enough to say that although the war may have been miserable, she was able to experience good times as well. I was with her in her happiest of times."

"Well, I suppose you came looking for her on the right day. She'll be very happy to see you Mr. Bale. It's her…"

"Birthday, I know," John smiled slightly. He'd only realized when he'd happened to look at one of the billboards at the airport. Although her age he wasn't exactly sure, he knew that she was just a few years younger than he.

"You must have known her very well to remember her birthday," Harriet gave him a little smile, "However you know her, Mr. Bale, I'm sure she'd be glad to see you. She lives not far from here – just down the road, actually. At the end of Wilshire, the small white house on the right."

"Thank you ma'am," John gave her a nod. Harriet gave him a little smile and went to close the door, but John quickly spoke up, "Oh, and ma'am?"

"Yes?" she paused.

"Call me John," he gave her an earnest smile.

* * *

Renee was sitting on the living room floor beside Troy, who was attempting to weave some pink streamers through her hair. The little boy's brow was crumpled with determination – he wasn't able to get her his own birthday present so he figured he had to do something – and he'd inherited this determination from Amy – he wouldn't take no for an answer. He tried again and again to make Renee a pretty headpiece from the streamers, although they kept falling out or ripping whenever he tried to tie them into a knot.

Amy and Wayne were sitting beside one another on the couch, watching with humor as Renee calmly allowed Troy to fool with her hair, meanwhile sipping on a glass of soda and glancing to the TV. Although she had been dreading her birthday, so far it hadn't been half that bad. She was really warming up to the dress she was wearing, and once Wayne came over around noon with Troy things certainly livened up. Troy wished her the biggest happy birthday and even made her a card – on the front was a crayon drawing of a man in green armor with an orange visor. He knew of Master Chief and the John thing, after spending so much time with Amy and Renee after hearing news of his death they couldn't keep it from him. Renee smiled at the drawing when Troy handed her the card, however Amy seemed a little surprised and even embarrassed that Troy had drawn John – although Renee surprisingly didn't feel sad. She set Troy's handmade card beside Amy and Wayne's on the mantel.

Then everyone had lounged around, talked, ordered pizza and drank soda. Amy, who was still attempting to lose her weight gained from her pregnancy with Troy, cast all calorie charts from her mind when she smelled the pizza and ate three pieces – declaring with modest honesty that, Renee's birthday was the perfect call to cheat.

"See? This isn't bad at all, is it?" inquired Amy from the couch, sipping on soda, "You were whining about getting old – you should've seen her Wayne, dressed in ugly old jeans and a plain tank top. Now she looks nice."

"Oh I give up," Troy said with a frown, placing the streamers on Renee's lap, "I tried, they just don't want to work."

"That's fine, Troy," Renee tousled his hair, "Do you want some more pizza?"

"Yeah!" Troy beamed, and he glanced back at his mother for permission.

"You've already had two pieces, I don't want you getting sick," Amy scolded, "You're not going to eat all of Renee's…" she trailed off when she met Renee's gaze.

"He's a boy, Amy, just let him. I won't eat all the pizza," she let out a little laugh, and she looked at Troy and gestured towards the kitchen, "Go for it, kid."

"Thanks!" Troy exclaimed, and he was out of the living room in a blur.

"How does it feel to be thirty seven?" Amy asked Renee.

"I don't feel that bad now, actually," Renee fiddled with the crumpled mess of streamers on her lap, "There's nothing I can really do about it, right?"

"That's the spirit," Wayne grinned.

"Besides, she doesn't look that old, does she?" Amy asked, and Wayne shook his head.

"Oh you guys are just saying that," Renee rolled her eyes at them, "I certainly don't look nineteen anymore, that's for sure."

"But you don't look fifty either," Amy was quick to shoot back, "You look very mature, but sexy too."

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. Renee went to get up, but Amy was already heading out in the hallway.

"Stay put birthday girl," she told her, "It's probably just your parents."

Amy headed out into the hallway towards the door – but saw there was only one figure in the stained glass, not two. She wondered who it could be, and suddenly dared it to be some surveyor coming to bother Renee on her birthday. She set her glass of pop down on the little table next to the coat hanger, and opened the door.

She was glad she had set her glass down. Her mouth instantly fell open. Towering over her, dressed in a white t-shirt and cargo pants, was John. She had to do a double take before she realized who it was. He was paler than she remembered, ghostly white – scars crisscrossed his face, neck and arms. The sockets around his eyes were a dull purple – the eyes themselves black. The straight nose was still how she remembered, although she noticed was slightly to the right. The thin mouth was pressed into a straight line. Amy stared into his eyes, waiting for him to say something – his face portrayed no emotion. He looked… menacing.

She backed up a couple of feet, and called, "Renee!" she was surprised when her voice cracked, "Renee! Come here, _right now_."

"Who is it?"

John heard the voice – her sweet melodic voice – and it was so good to hear it again. Renee's voice, she was here, she was alive. Amy looked generally the same, although at the moment looked shocked beyond belief.

"Just _come _here," Amy ordered, stepping back further.

Renee sighed, pulling herself up off the floor, and walked across the living room towards the hallway. She saw Amy, looking straight ahead. What was going on? She walked out into the hallway, Amy making immediate room for her.

"What's…?" Renee began, but cut off immediately. She froze, a little gasp escaping her. The man standing in her doorway… it was _John_. She slapped her hand to her mouth, letting out another little gasp. She stared into his face – which was almost deathly white. His eyes were black, not brown, like she had remembered. He was still tall, still muscular, but his face was covered in new scars. One on his forehead, the other across his nose, one through his eyebrow, little faint ones on his cheeks, but most noticeably was the old scar, which he had when she first met him, right below his right eye. Compared to the others it was faint.

"John?" she whispered, waiting for her eyes to deceive her and for him to disappear. But he didn't. She repeated his name again, "John? _John_? Is it… you're… you're alive?" She felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

John nodded, ever so slightly. She watched his features soften a little – and he spoke. His voice was the same deep voice she had heard almost a year ago on the television. It was even hoarse – but he tried to make it sound soft.

"I'm alive," he said, "Renee, I'm alive."

"Oh my god!" Renee let out a choked back sob, but let her hand fall from her mouth, and she ran forward into his arms. She hit his chest – rock hard like she remembered, and felt his strong arms encircle her in the protective hug she had so longed for. She let out a whimper, hugging him as tightly as she could, burying her face into his shirt, allowing herself to break down – but her tears weren't of sadness. John rocked her gently, burying his own face into her hair – which was now long and wavy – but still beautiful. His Renee, she was just how he remembered her to be. She was still delicate and small in his arms. He was hugging her. He was really hugging her, after all these years.

Renee suddenly had her arms about his neck, and roughly, yet passionately, pulled his head down to her level, and pressed her lips to his. They kissed hungrily, John hoisting her up into his arms. She wrapped herself around him, running her fingers through his short hair, clutching him close. He could feel the wet tears on her cheeks, but the kiss – John felt something come alive in him that he thought was long dead. His heart began to pound, his cheeks grew warm – it was the passionate feeling of love.

Renee pulled back for a moment, letting out a little sob.

"I thought you were dead," she said, "I honestly thought…"

"No," John shook his head, "I'm alive." He met her eyes honestly, "I'm alive, and I promise you, I'll never leave your side again. This war is over, Master Chief is gone." He paused, and she nodded numbly, "I'll never leave you, again, Renee. Never ever again. I'm here to stay."


	47. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**[July 23rd 2553]**

_"Not just Los Angeles, but the world had been suddenly swept with overwhelming news – news that suddenly refueled everyone's beliefs, changed everyone's opinions. But besides being breaking news, the story is also a compelling mystery. _

_On board the UNSC frigate Knight of Reclamation, there has been an amazing and quite unbelievable discovery. Fully functional, but empty MJOLNIR MARK IV armor has been discovered in the storage room. The MJOLNIR armor is the armor used by the UNSC's very own Spartans. _

_ The empty armor was found by one of the UNSC employed rescuers involved in the retrieval of survivors from the war, when he went in to go check the stock in the storage room. According to him, the armor was in pieces, laid out very carefully on one of the tables. _

_ This armor is believed to be the armor worn by Master Chief himself. It was taken to the UNSC Military Base and placed in the care of the ONI. One man who got to see it described the armor has been well worn, covered with dirt, scratches and even some of it was chipped – like it has been through months of intense battle._

_ The armor was confirmed by several UNSC officers that it is, real MJOLNIR armor and that undoubtedly belongs to Master Chief. _

_ But the big question is, where's the man himself?_

_ Many rumors have circulated and many people have depicted and taken guesses at what the face behind the helmet looked like, some people even believed that he is an alien. Alien or not, no one has seen his face, so who can possibly identify him._

_ We managed to interview Lord Terrence Hood, and inquire about this bizarre, and quite surprising find. _

_ "Master Chief is alive, quite obviously," Hood told us, "But, he obviously doesn't want to be found, and that's quite understandable. Although some might think it odd that he would run away from the obvious fame to his name, but I can understand completely. The soldier has been fighting non-stop since this war began, and now that it's finally over – he wants his break, he wants his chance to live a normal life. Whatever he might be after, we should let him do it and accept his decision to remain unknown to society. After all things he has done for us, I think it's time we should do something for him – and that being respecting his decision to live like a normal human being."_

_ Lord Hood left it at that, and refused to add anything more to what he said. So, it seems that Master Chief just wants to be left alone, wherever he is. Although he won't be forgotten that's for sure…"_

John stopped reading, and tossed the newspaper aside, tightening his grip around Renee. He silently thanked Lord Hood for his discretion. Glancing down to Renee lying in his arms, he pulled her closer and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

The End


	48. New AN: Subject: Sequel

**NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE & INFO ON SEQUEL - September 07/09**

It's clear enough now. There **will be** a sequel to Love of a Spartan, with the first chapter due in October 2009.

Just because I was that damned bored, I created a teaser trailer.

Love me. Love me alot. Haha.

(Just get rid of spaces)

http:// www. youtube .com /watch?v=3A1hRmn8mxk


	49. Author's Note: UpdateImprovement

**Author's Note : Update – July 2011**

Over the past month, I decided to go back over Love of a Spartan and give it a few improvements. Several scenes/chapters have been extended and or edited, most notably the first couple of chapters. I went through every single chapter of this story with absolute care, fixing grammatical errors that were overlooked upon the story's original publication. As well, several factual errors were corrected. Looking over it now, Love of a Spartan has been refreshed into an even better work of fiction. Whether you are a long-time fan, or have just stumbled across this story for the very first time, I hope you appreciate the story, described now in a fresh new light. As well, if you haven't already, be sure to check out Love of a Spartan's sequel: Love of a Spartan: After the War, which at thirty chapters, is an ongoing tale that describes John's struggle with life after the end of the Human-Covenant War and conflicts that arise. Happy reading.

AshleyBudrick


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